


Awake My Soul

by tigmeyers



Category: Vikings (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-03-19
Updated: 2015-02-03
Packaged: 2017-12-05 18:48:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 32
Words: 84,131
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/726667
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tigmeyers/pseuds/tigmeyers
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Athelstan was taken from his home and forced to live a life so foreign that he questions his God daily.  Why was he brought here?  What is his purpose?  How could this possibly be serving God?  After a new set of slaves reaches the land of the Vikings, his destiny may become clearer.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Fix You

**Author's Note:**

> Well thank the Lord that SOMEWHERE has a place to post fanfiction for this kick ass show! This is the first chapter in I couldn't tell you how many. I also can't tell you the next time I'll get a chance to update due to nursing school, but hopefully it's closer together than what I'm imagining! George Blagden is a good muse that keeps coming back weekly ;) I appreciate any and all responses, though I ask that you be mature and critique NOT bash (please). Thank you, and I hope you enjoy!

Athelstan watched as his masters and their fellow raiders disembarked from their boat, gloating to those in the community of the plundering and riches that they had gathered on their most recent journey to the West.  He had become used to this part of the Vikings; it was their way of life, their nature.  But as he continued to stand at the end of the dock with Bjorn and Gyda, his attention was brought to the several new faces that continued to sit in the boat. 

            They were all women, young and middle aged, different stages of beauty apparent on their faces.  It was their looks of fear mixed with disgust that was what equaled them out.  Athelstan could only imagine that was what he and his brothers looked like when they had arrived to this foreign land how many moons ago. 

            “More slaves,” mumbled Bjorn.

            “Why do they bring them here?  They do not look strong enough for hard labor,” said Gyda.  Athelstan knew the answer to that question but decided to leave the young girl in the dark for as long as he could manage.

            The women were dragged from the boat and the people gawked at the appearance of them.  When they had left the shores of their homeland, the ladies had been dressed in fine clothes; after some time at sea their garments were worn and tattered from the salt air.  Athelstan felt warmth at his neck when he caught Rollo tugging at the ropes that kept the group together.

            “They are available for sale as soon as we hit town.  Follow us and you can have yourselves a pretty little slave.”  Rollo’s voice is boisterous over the crowd, and his mocking laughter sent a chill down Athelstan’s spine.  “Except for this one.  This one is mine.”

            The young woman looked to be around Athelstan’s age if he was to guess.  Her hair seemed to be brown in color but at the same time the sun created glints of auburn and golden tresses.  He could see her green eyes sparkle with indignation.  Her spirit would be broken soon enough, he found himself thinking, and was angered by it.  If Athelstan could rid the world for the betterment of it, he would choose Rollo in an instant.  His commandments said that ‘thou shall not kill’ but Athelstan was betting that Rollo was purely evil and damned to Hell anyway.

            As the group of women was pulled roughly towards them, the young woman he had noticed almost ran into Gyda but Athelstan caught her before she could fall.  Gyda gasped but he barely heard her as he was busy staring at the woman, and she at him.

            “Come along lasses,” Rollo growled, pulling them once more.

            As they walked off to town Athelstan absently touched his arm, a burning feeling left after the woman’s departure.

 

            “Thank you, priest, for tending to the children and farm for us.  Everything looks well in place,” greeted Lagertha.  “How has the yielding been?”

            “All is going as planned.  How was your journey?”

            Ragnar smirked.  “How did it look like it went?”

            Athelstan played with his hands as the parents admired their ever-growing children.  Instead of replying to his master, he decided to go back to his place in the fields.  When he was first put to work it deemed itself too hard to him, but over time and with practice Athelstan’s body gained muscle and endurance.  Now if he missed a day of tending to the harvest, his body would whisper its displeasure to him.

            He worked until his body could take no more and the early summer sun set behind the hills.  Wiping his brow, he walked up to the house once more.  His tunic was soaked with sweat and, shortly after passing through the entryway, he stripped it off and took some leftover water from the morning to splash over his chest to cool down.

            “Will you be joining us for dinner, or are you going to continue on your own?” Lagertha questioned, eyeing her slave in appreciation.  It always annoyed her when she and Ragnar would invite him to bed and he would continually fend them off.  He was so different from her dear husband that she knew he would make an interesting addition to their bed.

            Athelstan, who was now used to at least his chest being exposed to the people around him, put on his extra tunic.  “Yes, of course.  Why wouldn’t I?”

            She shrugged, turning around to join her family at the table.  He followed her and sat at his designated spot.  The children and parents exchanged stories of the days that had passed since they had last seen one another but Athelstan, who had plenty to add to the conversation, kept quiet.  Instead he took in the dynamic of these people that he would never truly feel a part of.  He had been lucky to be brought into the home of Ragnar and Lagertha because he could have fared quite worse, but he would never be fully integrated.  Maybe it was for this reason that he could not, no matter how hard he tried, get the face of that young woman out of his mind; she was fairing worse, he knew it, and yet they had something in common—foreigners put into slavery.

            “Priest, is something the matter?” spoke Ragnar. 

            Athelstan was brought back to reality and noted that the children had been motioned to bed and it was just he and the man of the home.  “No.  I’m sorry; I guess I’m just tired.”

            Ragnar looked at the man across from him as if he was trying to read his mind.  “I know you, Athelstan.  I know you are lying.  Why are you not telling me what is troubling you?”

            “It’s not important.”

            “It is important to you, so therefore it is important to me.”

            Athelstan shook his head.  He knew that the brothers had previous problems but had closure and since then had been joined at the hip.  “I do not wish to speak ill of those you find dear, Ragnar Lothbrok.”

            His master’s eyes widened slightly, pondering the slave’s words.  “My brother.  What has he done this time?”  
            Athelstan fought internally on what to do; if he should say anything.  But the man had insisted and so he would tell him.  “The women you brought back as slaves; there was one who was to go to Rollo.”  He paused.  “I am concerned for her safety.”

            “Why?”  
            Athelstan cleared his throat.  “I do not pretend that I am unaware as to what purpose these women will serve.  But Rollo…he’s brutal, forceful, unyielding.  If I—“

            “If you what?”

            He let out a rush of breathe in frustration.  “I will also not pretend that I am unaware of where I stand in society.  But Ragnar Lothbrok, if I had the means I would pay any price he asked for her just so that I could have peace of mind.  I fear that I will not have rest from now until I hear…”

            “Hear what?”

            “Of her death.”

            Ragnar choked on the words that were passed to him.  “You think so ill of my brother?”

            “I _know_ so.”

            “I see.”  The older man rubbed his calloused hands along his beard, deep in thought.  “I am sorry to hear of your worry.”  He got up from his place at the table and went to his bedroom to celebrate the journey’s victory with his wife.

            Athelstan felt even more helpless than he already had.

 

            As the dawn broke, the household stirred, eager to see a new day and all the possibilities that it brought.  Athelstan’s dry and tired eyes said otherwise, and his lack of rest made his bones weary and slow to movement.  He wished with every part of him that he would not have seen that woman yesterday, or learned of her fate.  He wished that he would stop caring.

            Breakfast came and went.  Athelstan taught the children their lessons in the morning and then turned his attention to the farm in the afternoon.  He gathered relief from his thoughts in the day’s work and in joking with Ragnar.  It was shortly before dusk when Lagertha and Gyda returned from fishing; their dinner for the evening.  But it was who joined them that caught his attention.

            “Gather some rags and water, and build up the fire.  She’s barely with us,” Lagertha ordered her men.  She was supporting the weight of the young woman that Athelstan had feared for.

            The woman’s face was battered and beaten, and she had no energy to walk.  Ragnar went over to help his wife, taking the human load onto his broad shoulders.  Athelstan broke out of his shock and ran to the house to follow his orders.  He placed his mat in front of the fire and added more wood to the hearth.  Taking water and pouring it into a bowl, he gathered rags to place next to the bowl so that Lagertha had easy access.

            Ragnar laid the small woman down onto the mat as gently as he could before backing off so that his wife could tend to her.  Athelstan watched as Lagertha made amends of the stranger, praying to God that she would pull through and find her life in a better place. 

            “What happened?” Ragnar asked, terrified of the sight before him after the discussion he and his slave had just had the night before.

            “We were fishing when we heard a strange noise coming from the shore.  This woman appeared and told us that she had run from her master after he had raped and beaten her.  Then she passed out.”

            Both men took this information and let it lay heavily on their chests and shoulders.  Ragnar cursed his brother’s name under his breath while Athelstan did so in his mind.

            “Do you think she will survive?”

            Lagertha looked up slowly at the holy man and said, “I don’t know yet.” 

 

            Athelstan decided that he would take night watch over the woman so that Lagertha could take a break and get some rest.  As she lay unconscious on the floor, he imagined that her facial expressions were due to dreaming and not the pain she was sure to be in.  Her features were delicate, and he couldn’t imagine what would possibly bring anyone to harm such a creature.  Then again, he couldn’t wrap his mind around anything that Rollo did.

            Just as he was on the brink of sleep himself, the woman gasped and sat straight up.  Athelstan did his best to calm her and get her to lie back down, but her screams and will to fight back woke everyone up.

            “Please, we won’t hurt you,” he said, trying to help Ragnar.  “Just calm down and we can explain where you are at.”

            His efforts were futile and seemed to only make it worse.  Thinking as quickly as he could, Athelstan turned to Lagertha and said, “Where did you get her from?”

            “England, of course.”  Her expression was that of confusion.

            Taking note that she probably did not understand a word he was saying, Athelstan changed back to his native tongue.  “We are trying to help you.  Please, what is your name?”

            The woman’s thrashing came to a halt and she stared at the male slave.  “Helena.  How do you—“

            Athelstan shook his head.  “I, too, come from the West.  We mean you no harm.  We only wish to help you and make you feel better.”

            The Viking family watched on in fascination as Helena’s body relaxed and she laid back down, turning into herself.  Athelstan placed a hesitant hand on her arm, backing off slightly when she jumped.

            “My name is Athelstan.  I was a monk and captured by these people several moons ago.  I lived in Northumbria.  Where are you from?”

            “Canterbury.”

            Athelstan’s eyebrows rose up and he turned to Ragnar.  “You landed in a completely different part of England.”

            Ragnar and Lagertha exchanged dumbfounded looks.

            “You landed in the southern tip on the east side of the country.  You weren’t even close to Northumbria, or anywhere that you’ve been landing.”

            The couple looked joyous at the news of a new discovery but the idea made Athelstan sick with worry.  Helena looked as frightened as a newborn calf, and he pitied her because he completely understood.

            “Don’t worry,” he whispered to her.  “I’ll keep you safe.”


	2. Colorblind

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I want to thank you all for your support! I’ve written before but the one other story was for a smaller fandom, and then I made Enjolras straight so that didn’t go over as well lol 
> 
> I don’t know that I’m fully pleased with this chapter but hopefully you all like it! And please note that, in order for you all get into my head a little, my idea is to give the chapter the name of the song I listened to the most while writing it (sort of a soundtrack to the story!). I’ll also give a little bit of lyric at the beginning. Please let me know if you like the idea/enjoy the music! Enough with me…enjoy 

_I am covered in skin_

_No one gets to come in_

_Pull me out from inside_

_I am folded and unfolded and unfolding_

_\--Counting Crows_

          

Athelstan watched over the children as they practiced their lessons for the morning.  He had been teaching them ever since the first time they had been left in his care, when Lagertha had been invited to join Ragnar on a raid.  Looking up, he spotted Helena sitting in a corner, braiding her long hair into something more manageable.  She must have felt his eyes on her because she locked eyes with him shortly after that, and they shared gentle smiles.

            Since her first night here, Athelstan had found Helena’s presence to be soothing.  He thought it was because they came from the same country and spoke the same language, but recently he had found himself remembering his mother with certain things that she would do.  Once, when Helena had joined him in the stable to feed the pigs, Gyda came hobbling over to them because she had been playing and fell, hurting her leg.  Not even really understanding what the young girl was saying, Helena took it upon herself to step in front of Athelstan and tend to the wound.  She hummed an old lullaby as she cleaned the area, and whispered a prayer while bandaging it up. 

            As Gyda got up to leave, she balanced on her tiptoes to speak in Athelstan’s ear.  “I like her.”  Athelstan had smiled down at her before she limped away to join the other children again.

            Helena also proved to be an eager student, wanting to learn the language so that she wouldn’t feel so left out of the conversations around her.  She loved to help Lagertha with anything that she could do, as a repayment to the Viking couple for deciding to take her in after the attack.  Athelstan had proof that Gyda adored her new housemate, and he had a pretty good instinct that Bjorn like her as well but mainly because he had a crush. 

            This young woman was almost too good to be true, and that was the only part that made him nervous.  Well, that and the fact that he was aware of his growing attraction for her.

            Before Ragnar and his men raided Lindisfarne, Athelstan’s exposure to women had been limited.  He had been around his mother and sister growing up, and the other women in the village, but he had not had much time with them before the burden of too many children had forced his parents to send him to the monastery.  Once he was part of the world of holy men, women became just a distant memory.  Now, every day he was surrounded by females wherever he went.  Athelstan did not think too much of them besides an understanding of hard work in the home.  He had come to appreciate the strong beauty of Lagertha, but it was Helena’s quiet beauty that intrigued him.

            When they first interacted during her recovery he didn’t have much of a chance to notice her features, mainly because they were disfigured under the black and blue spattering.  But now that time had passed, he could see the slight freckles that were scattered across the bridge of her nose and cheeks due to the summer sun, the fact that her hands looked delicate but still held the callouses of an earned wage, and that her silhouette exposed a slightly upturned nose. 

            Athelstan didn’t trust himself to know these things about a woman; these were the details that led a man to lust, to sin.  No, he would not dwell on these thoughts.  Helena’s sweet smile may have haunted his dreams last night, but Athelstan would stay true to his beliefs and his vows.  He was a man of God, not one of these pagan men that surrounded him.

 

            “Athelstan,” came a soft voice behind him, “have you finished yet?”

            He turned around to find Helena standing there with a bundle of laundry in her arms.  He had been washing up for the morning but the sky had caught his attention at the end and he supposed that time had flown passed him without realization.

            “Yes.  I apologize; I’m sure I’m fairly far behind for the day.”  Athelstan gathered his few belongings that he had with him and walked up the slope of the green hill to where she stood.  “Wash day?”

            Helena looked down at the pile he spoke of.  “Gyda…well, let’s just say that Ragnar has something new to worry about.”

            The monk’s eyes widened a bit before returning to a relaxed state.  “I see.  Well I’ll leave you to it then.”

            “It’s beautiful, isn’t it?” she called after him.

            He turned back to her, confused.  “Puberty?”

            Helena giggled and let her eyes fall to the ground.  “No, silly, the sky.”

            “Oh,” he replied, embarrassed by his misstep.  “Yes.  Yes, it’s very beautiful.”

            She nodded.  “I was worried of my fate when I first arrived here.  Though it hasn’t been all wonderful, ever since I came here to live with you and the others I have been able to see the true beauty of this land.  I never thought that anywhere could be this pretty but I guess God really works in mysterious ways.”

            “He does, doesn’t he?”  A ghost of a smile came over Athelstan’s mouth.

            “Do you still hold your same beliefs, Athelstan?  I sometimes wonder if this land hasn’t changed you.  You always seem sad whenever you speak of the Lord.  I never imagined a monk to act in such a way.”

            The suggestion and her blunt statement of it startled him, and he was unsure of how to answer it.  “I-I would rather not discuss this.  I will see you later today for your lesson.”

            As he walked away, Helena’s heart broke a little from his shortness with her.  She set to work, not wanting to lose any more of the day with all that she had to do.

 

            Athelstan was walking from the stables to his area of the fields to finish for the day when he was stopped by Rollo, Ragnar’s older brother.  They had not seen hide or hair of him at the home since Lagertha had brought Helena back with her, though Ragnar had told Athelstan that he had seen him for the two raids that had occurred since then.  The anger that the monk festered towards the man surged to an even higher level.  How dare he come here?

            “Priest, where is my brother?”

            “I don’t know,” he mumbled to the man, starting back towards his destination.

            Rollo grabbed his arm, swinging Athelstan around with ease.  “Excuse me, _priest_ , but I asked you a question.  You will answer me.”

            “I did answer you,” he replied, staring Rollo in the eye even though his heart raced with fear.  “I told you that I am unaware of Ragnar’s location.  Now if you please, I have work to finish before the sun sets.”

            Athelstan wretched his arm away before walking towards the fields once more.  He thought that the other man had decided to search the farm to find his brother but Athelstan was wrong.  Rollo followed the monk, chuckling behind him.

            “How’s the wench doing?  Hmm?  Does she keep you warm at night?  How does it make you feel when she moans your name?  Is that your favorite moment of the day?  Do you replay it in your head to get you through the day until you can make her do it again?” 

            Athelstan ripped at the weeds, trying his best to ignore the vulgar comments coming from the pagan that stood over him.  His anger was turning to rage, and he was seeing red as his blood boiled.

            _Hail Mary, Full of Grace_

_The Lord is with thee_

_Blessed art thou amongst women_

_And blessed is—_

            “Because you know I didn’t beat her, right?  Actually, she came to me quite willingly in the night.  She moaned my name ever so sweetly, breathed heavy with desire into my ear.  I can’t help that someone came across her and decided that they didn’t like the looks of her.  In fact, it’s quite a shame really.”  Rollo smirked down upon Athelstan, his arrogance an outer shell for his body.

            The statements made by this man had become too much and Athelstan felt his soul leaving him, watching as his body lunged at the much larger figure across from him.  The two scuffled on the ground, the harvest being pulled up with their movements and destroying what could have brought the family a good wage.  Athelstan could barely believe that he was attempting to beat the man who had done the same to such a small and innocent woman, but he could not stand by and let her name be tainted. 

            “Athelstan!” a voice exclaimed somewhere off in the distance.  There were other voices as well, and shortly thereafter he was being pulled away from the other man. 

            “Just what do you two think you are doing?”  It was Ragnar that asked, his voice low and on the brink of disgust.  Lagertha’s face made Athelstan feel ashamed and unhappy with himself, and so instead he looked at the ground and the mess he and Rollo had made of it.  The shame sat heavy in his stomach, and so he looked around at anything but his family (because they really were his family when you got down to it).

            “I was just having a conversation with your slave here, and he decided to attack me with no provocation from me,” replied Rollo, feigning innocence. 

            Ragnar turned to Athelstan to confirm the story given by his brother.  “Well?  What do you have to say for yourself?”

            Athelstan looked at his friend and said, “It was not without provocation.  Rollo was insulting and saying quite vulgar things about Helena.  I-I couldn’t just let him say such horrid things about a lady.”

            “A _lady_?!  Oh ho!  That woman’s as much a lady as I am a gentleman!” exclaimed Rollo.

            Athelstan lunged for him again but Ragnar got to his brother first, slamming him up against the fence.

            “What did I tell you?  I told you that Helena is not to be blamed for your grotesque behavior, and that she will not be spoken of in such a manner.  She is living with us now, and you are no longer welcome here.  Do we have an understanding?”  Ragnar’s face was red, the veins in his neck and forehead protruding, a small portion of spit hanging on his bottom lip.  “If she is to come anywhere with us and you are there, you are to ignore her and not say a word.  And if I hear of any rumors coming from you, I will track you down and keep my promise.  You do remember my promise, don’t you?”

            Ragnar let go of his grip on Rollo’s collar, wiping his mouth.  Rollo looked indignant but righted his clothes and walked away, not before glaring at Athelstan.  Lagertha put herself between him and Helena, who had stood next to her during the argument, and gave a look of death to her brother-in-law. 

            Helena made her way over to Athelstan and checked him over for any injuries.  She placed her finger near his eye and he winced.

            “Yes, we’ll need to take you in and get you cleaned up,” she said.

 

            “Why did you do that?” Helena asked as she rung out the cloth in the basin.

            Athelstan felt slightly dizzy and so it took him some time to focus.  “I wished I wouldn’t have now that I am beginning to feel the effects, but I couldn’t let him say such things about you.”

            Helena shook her head and sighed.  “What are we going to do with you, Athelstan?”  She continued to dab at the cut on his eyebrow.  “I need a friend, not a hero.”

            “I wasn’t looking to be a hero, I promise.”  He offered her a smile, and she returned it.

            “You could have fooled us with the way you were going at it.  Soon I have a feeling I’ll be the sole caretaker of the children while you join Ragnar and Lagertha on a raid.”

            A shudder went down his spine at the idea of breaking into unknowing people’s homes and stealing their things.  “No, I don’t believe that you will have to worry about that.  But I may ask for some fighting lessons.”  He looked up at her with a bit of shame.  “I was a bit terrified to be honest.”

            Helena bit her lip.  “I can’t blame you.  Rollo is quite large and intimidating.”  Drying her hands on her apron, she leaned forward and kissed his wound.

            Athelstan held his breath until she let go of his face.  “What was that for?”

            “For being my hero.”

            They shared a laugh before preparing to join the others for dinner.


	3. Not With Haste

_Though I may speak some tongue of old_  
Or even spit out some holy word  
I have no strength from which to speak  
When you sit me down, and see I'm weak

_-Mumford and Sons_

 

Snow fell gently onto the ground, welcoming the citizens to the beginning of the winter season.  The land was bound to become a wonderland soon enough; once the snow started, it rarely would let up, leaving the children something to play with while their summer landscape hibernated for a time.  Right now it was a fine dust, a powder that would immediately melt as soon as it touched anything or anyone.  There was not much of a chance to inspect for a beautiful design within each flake, but that would change soon and would become a good pastime for the interested and the bored alike.

            With the snow came the complaints of the Viking men; there was no chance of traveling out to pillage in weather such as this.  Their lives were now to be spent mainly indoors with restless family members and a constant ache to stretch legs and explore.  Once the men had experienced their first voyage, the complacency of life in the homeland became dull and boring after too long a time.

            Athelstan looked over to find Ragnar Lothbrok sitting and joking with his friend, Floki.  Though Ragnar seemed to be having a good time, Athelstan knew better.  If any Viking was to complain about being stuck at home for months at a time, it was Ragnar.  He was utterly miserable during the winter, a bear to deal with, and made everyone miserable along with him by the time spring was sneaking her head around the corner to see if it was time to shine.

            Lagertha sat down next to Athelstan and handed him a mug of ale.  “What are you thinking, priest?”

            He shook his head.  “Just about how upset Ragnar will be now that winter is fully upon us.”

            She laughed, a hearty sound.  “That much is true.  He really is intolerable some days during this season.”  They shared a grin.  “Have you warned Helena?”

            “No, but I suppose we should, shouldn’t we?”

            Lagertha smirked at him.  “I’ll leave that up to you.”

            Athelstan was confused by her expression.  “Have I missed something?”

            “Not exactly.  You’re just being as stubborn as my husband can be when it comes to recognizing how you really feel.”

            He looked down at his shoes, his ears a flaming hot red.  “I wish that you wouldn’t bring this up all of the time.  I told you that nothing will happen.”

            “It’s because you choose so, not because you’ve asked her and she has denied you.”  Lagertha drank from her cup.  “In fact, I believe that if you were to ask Helena how she feels, you would be surprised of her answer.”

            He shook his head once more, now facing her.  “That’s the problem, Lagertha; I _do_ know the answer and that’s why I would never ask.”

            She scowled at him.  “Your god does not exist here, Athelstan.  You have not participated in your rituals in quite some time.  Do you really think yourself a priest anymore?”

            Athelstan sat straight up, the hair on the back of his neck standing up out of defiance.  “God exists everywhere.  And I am in constant contact with him.  How dare you question my lot in life; it was your people that caused this problem!”

            “I allowed you in to my home, have treated you as a friend instead of a slave, and this is how you speak to me!  If you’re so unhappy then maybe you should find a way back.”

            The snap in her tongue and the briefest of tears in her eyes made Athelstan reel back quickly.  “I didn’t mean it like that, Lagertha.”  He sighed before catching a glimpse of Helena in a portion of the house, talking to one of her friends that worked as a slave to another family at this feast.  The fire next to her created a halo effect around her, making his heart break just a little bit more.  “I’m frustrated with the situation; of my questions towards God and why I was sent here.  And why he sent Helena here as well.”

            She brought a gentle hand to his cheek, and he leaned into it.  It amazed him sometimes how such a woman could be beautiful with a kind heart one moment, and an ugly, fierce creature the next.

            “Athelstan, I say this to you with good intention.  Suppose your God does exist, suppose you do have a reason for being here besides the fact that Ragnar saved your life, and suppose that Helena was brought here for more than the fact that Rollo insisted.  Maybe, just maybe, your God wants you to love life here, and to have a love in your life.  Why would he want you to be angry and upset and lonely?  What purpose does that have?”

            He took in her words.  She was not being condescending like the Vikings had a tendency towards Christianity, but giving him real advice. 

            “I will consider your words.  Thank you.”

            She leaned in and gave him a kiss on the cheek before finding Ragnar.

 

            “Would you mind going to Kataket for me and getting these while you’re there?” Lagertha asked Helena, handing a list to her.  The younger woman nodded and put the paper in the pocket of her dress.  “Athelstan, would you please escort her?”

            He looked up from his mending and agreed.  It wasn’t like Lagertha was really asking so he didn’t have much of a choice.  He was happy for it, really, because it gave him an excuse to get away from grumpy Ragnar. 

            “I want to go!” Gyda exclaimed.  “I’m dying to get out of this house!  Would you mind, Helena?”

            “No, of course not, Gyda.”

            Athelstan smiled at the girl’s antics as she bundled for the walk.  He turned to Bjorn.  “Would you like to join us as well?”

            The teenager looked at his parents and then at Helena.  “Let me get my things.”

            “Why don’t we make it an entire family event at this point?” Ragnar growled.

            “Stop it now,” warned Lagertha.  “Thank you both.  Please be safe.”

            The four left the tiny home and took the long walk to town.  The snow was getting deeper and sticking to their outer cloths.  Gyda skipped along while Bjorn stuck close to Helena’s side, for ‘protection’ of course.  Athelstan watched as Gyda stopped to catch snowflakes in her hands and turn to show Helena, who ‘oohed’ and ‘aahed’ at the different designs they would see before the flake would melt from Gyda’s heat.

            “Snow always makes me think of new beginnings,” Helena said to Athelstan as they walked along, nearly in town.  “I always enjoyed it more than the spring, when the weather can’t decide what it wants to be, or the fall, when everything dies off.”

            He smiled down at her.  “I never thought of it that way before, but you do have a point.  I prefer the summer, myself.”

            “What is it about the summer that you like?”  Her question was genuine.

            “I enjoy the sun, the warmth, the green that is found everywhere.  I like to see the animals about, to look at the clouds, and to see all the colors from the flowers.”

            She smiled, looking off as if she was lost in a dream.  “My betrothed always brought me flowers during the summer.  Big handfuls, as much as he could grab.”

            “Betrothed?  You never mentioned him before.  I never knew.”

            She shrugged her dainty shoulders.  “I don’t like to.”

            There was a tension between them now; even by Bjorn’s expression Athelstan could tell he felt it as well.  He cleared his throat and said, “I’m sorry, Helena.  I didn’t mean to offend you.”

            She changed her reaction and slightly tugged on Athelstan’s curls, an affectionate gesture.  “Don’t worry, Athelstan, I know you didn’t.  It’s just difficult to think of.”

            They continued the journey in relative silence, though it was not uncomfortable like before.  The children said hello to friends of theirs, or adults that they knew through their parents.  Kataket was not nearly as busy as Athelstan had seen it on several occasions, but the people were not hiding indoors either.

            A plump woman, in her fifties if he had to guess, came up to them and smiled at Helena.  “How have you been, dear?” she asked, rubbing the younger’s arm.

            “I have fared better now that Ragnar and Lagertha Lothbrok have taken me in.  How have you been, Margaret?”

            “Oh, not too bad.  I have fared well myself.  A man here bought me to take care of his aging mother is all.  Nothing we haven’t dealt with before!”

            Helena smiled and hugged the other woman.  Athelstan felt the need to look away; these women had a history and needed a bit of privacy. 

            “And who is this, Helena?” Margaret questioned, referring to Athelstan, a kind smile on her face.

            “This is Athelstan.  Athelstan, this is Margaret.  She was an elder of sorts in my group back home.”  The two shook hands.  “Margaret, Athelstan is from Lindisfarne.”

            The older woman gasped and put a hand up to her mouth.  “My word.  What hell you must have been through.”

            Athelstan put his hand up, a plea for her to stop feeling bad for him.  “I saw the same things that you have seen.  We have all managed to make do with what fate we have been given.  I view these people as my family now.”

            Margaret nodded.  “Right you are.  You were very brave.  Thank you, Athelstan, for taking care of our Helena here.  She is quite a woman and I was so worried for her.”

            Helena’s smile up at him spoke so many words in such a simple gesture.  It was as if she was showing him off while thanking him at the same time.  If he was a betting man, he would have sworn that she was in adoration of him.  The idea made his neck red and his body temperature turn up what felt like a thousand degrees.

            “Helena is a good woman and she has held her own.  We’re happy to have her in our home.”

            “We must be going, though, Margaret.  The lady of the house needed some things but I don’t want to keep the children out for too long.  It was so good to see you,” Helena explained, hugging the woman once more.  “Do take care.”

            “Same to you, love.  It was a pleasure meeting you, Athelstan.”

            He acknowledged her before heading off towards their destination.  A hand at his arm stopped him from going further.

            “Before you go, I hear that you taught Helena the language of these people,” explained Margaret, looking around her.  “Would you mind when the season changes over to teach some of the others, myself included?  It would help ever so much.”

            Athelstan weighed her words.  “I-I don’t know. I…”

            “Please.  These girls are struggling and it would greatly help them.  I wish I could ask for your help now, but the weather...”

            “Yes, I understand.  I will think on it and get back to you shortly.” 

            “Thank you.”

            As they walked off once again, Helena grabbed Athelstan’s hand and squeezed it.  “You’re very kind, Athelstan.”

            He looked down at their hands.  “I didn’t say I would do it, though.”

            “But you’ll consider it?  That’s enough for me.”

            He tried to hide his grin but didn’t succeed very well.  She, in turn, giggled and squeezed his hand once more.  When she took it away, he felt the absence immediately.

 

            Lagertha thanked Helena once more for getting what she needed, and went about her work.  Ragnar was in better spirits than when they had left, which made the rest of the group at ease.

            “I’m sure she had something to do with the change in mood,” joked Helena to Athelstan, picking up her mending.  Gyda had torn one of her dresses when it got caught on a thorn bush right before the snow had come.

            Athelstan’s silence made Helena uneasy.  “I’m sorry,” she said.  “I should make such crude jokes around a monk.”

            “It’s nothing.  I was actually just thinking the same thing,” he insisted.  After they shared a laugh, he continued.  “I was very uncomfortable with the entire thing when I first got here, but I’ve had a chance to get used to it.”

            Ragnar went around asking everyone to join him by the fire.  The family sat down in anticipation to hear what he had to say.  Lagertha stood by his side, glowing.  Athelstan had never seen her look like that before; it was a curious thing for sure.

            “Bjorn, Gyda, your mother and I have some very exciting news to share with you.  And of course we can’t forget that Athelstan and Helena are part of our family now as well.”

            “While you were all out for the day, I went to see someone about a question that I had.  It seems that my inkling was correct; we are expecting a baby this spring,” announced Lagertha.

            Helena gasped and went to hug Lagertha.  “Congratulations!  This is such wonderful news.”

            Gyda went and hugged her mother while Bjorn grinned up at his father.  Athelstan stood and shook hands with head of the household.

            “Helena is right, this is truly a blessing.  Congratulations.”

            “Thank you, friend.  This makes the winter much more bearable.”

            The group exchanged a laugh at that before sitting down for dinner.  Most of the chatter was about the newcomer; Gyda was full of questions to the point that Bjorn was annoyed.

            “If this is what the next couple of months are going to be like, can we give it back?” he suggested to his father.

            “How would you like me to do that?” mocked Ragnar.

            Bjorn shrugged his shoulders.  “Ask the gods to reverse what you did.  Or better yet, have them take away Gyda’s voice.”

            “Now, now Bjorn,” scolded Lagertha.  “Gyda, that’s enough questions for tonight.”

            Later that night, as they lay on their mats waiting for sleep to arrive, Helena turned to Athelstan and said, “Have you ever been around babies before?”

             “Years ago.  I had a younger sister.  But I don’t remember much.  Have you?”

            “Yes, actually.  I used to work with the midwife in the village and had several younger siblings.”

            Her excitement seemed to be oozing from every part of her body.  It made Athelstan feel even more excited than he thought possible about a baby.

            “Do you wish to have children yourself?” he asked her.

            She became quiet then.  “I did.  But I guess that’s not really possible now.”

            He leaned his head on his hand.  “Why not?”

            She shrugged.  “I can’t say I’ve met very many men here, at least not very many respectable ones.”  Helena paused.  “Well, there’s you, of course, but that’s not really a possibility, is it?”

            Athelstan fell onto his back, feeling defeated just in the small and nonchalant comment.  “No, I suppose not.”


	4. Almost Lover

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *le sigh* Sooo…as amazing as George Blagden acted/looked (seriously, that hair and those clothes? They’re trying to kill me!) during this past episode, I was not *SPOILER ALERT* thinking that Ragnar was going to be Earl quite so soon. So where does that put this story? I’ve written so much about farming and during a streak of creativity this past weekend, I wrote this and two other chapters already, one of which mentions a democratic government after Earl Haroldson’s death. That’s due to hearing from history buffs that that’s what the Viking’s system was more like than anything. I think I have an idea as to how to deal with this, but if anyone has any clearer ideas, I’d appreciate the heads up and see which sounds best! Thanks in advance! 
> 
> I got an inquiry about doing a chapter in Helena’s P.O.V. To answer that, I WILL be doing at least one of those so stay tuned! As for the other request, I’ll have to see how well it fits into the story but have it in the back of my mind. Thanks for your suggestions :)

_So long, my luckless romance_   
_My back is turned on you_   
_I should've known you'd bring me heartache_   
_Almost lovers always do_

_-A Fine Frenzy_

 

            Athelstan woke early as he heard Ragnar rustling around the home.  Rubbing his eyes, he slowly sat up to take in what exactly was happening.  Helena stirred in her sleep, and he turned to watch as she found a new comfortable position and nuzzled into the crook of her arm.  He found himself wishing that she was nuzzling into him.

            _Stop being ridiculous, man._

            Ragnar walked past when Athelstan’s sitting figure caught his eyes.  He stopped and walked over to him.  “What are you doing up?” he whispered.

            “I could ask you the same thing.”

            Ragnar rolled his eyes.  “Get dressed and come quietly.”

            Athelstan did what he was told.  The air around the men was thick and frigid, and Athelstan found himself finding it hard to breathe when taking it in at first.  They walked in silence for some time before he decided to speak up.

            “So where are we going?”

            “Where do you think we are going?”

            Athelstan looked around at the area and recognized it as being the trail to Floki’s.  “What has he done now?”

            Ragnar let out a belting laugh.  He knew of Floki’s love of practical jokes towards the monk over the years, resulting in a love-hate relationship between the two and an uneasiness of Athelstan’s around the eccentric man.  “He has done us a great favor.  I’m eager to see how it’s going.”

            “Apparently, if we’re up right as the sun is.”

            Ragnar narrowed his eyes at him before continuing on.  After some time they came upon their destination and noted the smoke coming up from a fire set amongst the trees.  Floki sat next to it, carving something into a small piece of wood.

            “Good morning, my friend.  How are you?” greeted Ragnar as they came upon him.

            Floki stood to greet Ragnar in turn, a large grin glued to his face.  “How are you?  I see you brought your priest.”

            Athelstan flung his eyes to the heavens.  ‘ _Your’ priest, honestly_.  “Good morning, Floki.”

            “So you couldn’t wait to see her, huh?  Well come on, come on.”  Floki walked them down the bank to the water’s edge. 

            Athelstan took in the magnificent sight before them.  A brand new boat sat at the dock, its size like no other’s and the details within the wood itself a work of art.  Athelstan could see that it was still in progress but what there was of it was most impressive.  If he and his brothers had thought that the boat that made its way to them was intimidating…this was twice the size and a hell of a lot more scary.

            “It’s perfect,” Ragnar mumbled, running a hand over the side.

            “Why the change?” Athelstan asked, looking at the ship with apprehension.

            “We needed something bigger, more durable, for our raids.  The other ships weren’t able to hold everything.  We would fear sinking before making it back home,” answered Ragnar.

            “Maybe you should stop stealing so much, then,” he suggested.

            Floki laughed at the man’s ignorance, and waited with anticipation as to how Ragnar would react.

            Ragnar made his way over to Athelstan with stealth such as a hunter to its prey.  “How do you like your home?  The food in your belly?  The clothes on your back?  Hmm?  Or would you rather I throw you out into the cold instead?”

            Athelstan sighed and resigned to himself.  There were moments from time to time that he thought he and Ragnar were equals, and then there would be moments such as these that would remind him that they were not and that his fate was left in Ragnar’s hands.

            “I’m sure you wouldn’t like me to throw your beloved Helena out, either,” Ragnar added, going back to inspecting the ship.

            “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

            Ragnar grunted while Floki jumped up and down, giggling as he continued to enjoy the interaction between the two.

            “Are you to take the slave woman as your own?  I never knew you had it in you, priest,” Floki joked.  “I imagine you are quite lonely while Ragnar and Lagertha go at it every chance they get.”

            Athelstan walked away, unable to take the shipbuilder anymore.  He inspected the area around him and waited patiently for Ragnar to finish his business.

 

            “Where were you two?” Lagertha questioned as her men returned home.  “I’ve been worried.”

            “Don’t,” Ragnar said, placing a hand on her belly and a kiss on her lips.  “We were visiting Floki.”

            “Floki?  Why didn’t you ask me to come with you?” spoke Bjorn. 

            “You were too busy snoring,” Ragnar replied, ruffling his son’s hair. 

            Athelstan dropped a dead bird onto the table to be chopped up for dinner and supplies for bread to be made.  “Ragnar thought to bring a meal back as well.”

            The children went outside to get some fresh air while the adults tended to their daily chores.  Athelstan went to the barn to feed the livestock, and Helena followed him.  They worked quietly as they were prone to do, feeling comfortable enough with the other to not have to fill the silence with words.  A familiar looking man came along, stopping at the fence and seemingly inspecting the farm.

            “Can I help you?” asked Bjorn.  This caught the attention of the two slaves, who walked over.

            “I am looking for your father, Ragnar Lothbrok?” the man answered.  “I have some business with him.”

            Bjorn nodded his head and went inside.  Shortly after, he was joined by his elder, who walked over to the fence with a knowing smile on his face.

            “Arne, to what do I owe this pleasure?”  The two shook hands.

            “I was wondering if I could speak to you in private?”  Arne looked over at Helena and gave a warm smile.  Athelstan watched as she returned the gesture, looking down at her feet afterwards.  His heart fluttered with disappointment but he did his best to not show it on his face.

            The two Vikings walked off to another part of the farm and talked for a few minutes.  Both Bjorn and Gyda looked at Athelstan with concern, not knowing what to make of the visit but not liking the look that Arne had given Helena.

            “There is something that was asked of me, Helena,” Ragnar said, coming back up to the group.  “But it is for you to decide.”

            “Yes?”  She looked scared of what was to come.

            “Arne has asked about you.”

            “Asked about her for what?” Athelstan questioned, getting annoyed.

            Helena blushed.  “He means that Arne was wondering if I am available.  For marriage.”

            It was in this moment that Athelstan felt his world crumbling beneath him.  When Lindisfarne had been raided and he had been brought here, he had thought that nothing could have been more awful or made him feel more alone.  But here, facing the idea of Helena leaving him and this farm to marry one of the Viking men, even if he was one of the more tolerable ones, made Athelstan’s stomach turn.

            “I do not know much about him to make a decision,” Helena answered Ragnar. 

            “Would you like to spend some time with him?”

            Helena looked over at Arne who had stayed where Ragnar had left him.  “Yes.  I need to speak with him more before I make a decision.”

            She walked over to him; every footstep like a stamp on Athelstan’s chest.  The snow fell around her, and he thought that he had never seen a more beautiful sight.  Then again, there weren’t many times that he hadn’t thought that when it came to her.

            “I’m sorry, friend.  I tried to give her a chance to say no in the hopes that you would had your chance to tell her how you feel.  But there’s nothing I can do now,” Ragnar whispered to Athelstan. 

            The look of pity did him in, and Athelstan shrugged Ragnar’s hand off of his shoulder and walked back to the barn.  He finished feeding the animals before becoming a heap on the hay.  Athelstan could not recall a time in which he had cried this hard.

 

            “I didn’t realize that you were that tired.”

            The statement woke Athelstan from his place on the barn floor.  He sat up and saw that Helena was standing over him, a twinkle in her eye and a smile on her face.  He tried his best to return her smile, but failed miserably.

            “I don’t think I realized either until this moment.”

            She sat down next to him and took a piece of hay to play with between her fingers.  “I don’t know what to do, Athelstan.”

            “I’m afraid I’m not much help in this area.”

            Helena giggled.  “I suppose not.”  They sat in silence for some time, the sheep shuffling around in their pens.  “He was my best friend.”

            “I’m sorry?”

            She turned to him.  “My betrothed.  We were best friends growing up.  His home was close to mine in the village and our fathers worked together.  I agreed because I knew that we would at least enjoy each other’s company over the years and he would be a good father.  It’s funny how you never realize how much someone means to you until they are gone.”

            Athelstan thought of snorting at the statement, ironic as it was, but decided that while she was opening up to him was not the time.  “What happened to him?”

            “He got sick.  I’m not even sure what happened.  I was coming home from attending a birth and my mother told me that Benjamin hadn’t been feeling well for a few days but that he had taken a turn for the worse, and to go to see him.”  She stopped as the tears formed in her eyes.  “He died in my arms that night.”

            He held her hand as a comfort, sorry for her loss and experience with death.  “I’m sure he was very happy to have you as the last thing he saw in this lifetime.”

            She gave him a half of a smile, shaking her head.  “What do I do?  I know nothing about Arne.  From our talk he seems nice enough and not as horrible as the rest of them here.”

            “Do you have any reason to possibly say yes?”  Athelstan prayed that she would say no.

            “He would be my way to have children and my own household.”  Her voice was barely above a whisper.

            Athelstan didn’t know what to say so he didn’t.  She looked over at him but he kept his focus on the animals in front of him.

            “Do you think that this was God’s plan for me?”

            “I don’t know that I’m the person to ask anymore.”

            “What do you mean?”

            He got up from his seat on the hay.  “Because I don’t know that I believe myself to be a monk anymore.”

           

            Lagertha was the only person at dinner that seemed to have anything to say.  “I felt the baby kick for the first time today.”

            The residents of the home all gave her a smile but said nothing, continuing to poke at their food.

            “Okay, what is the problem?”

            It was as if someone had let the gag out of the children’s and Ragnar’s mouth, but Athelstan and Helena remained quiet.  Lagertha attempted to hear what the three were saying but finally gave up and yelled at them to stop.

            “One at a time!  Now Gyda, what is wrong with you?”

            “Father was talking to Arne today, who asked for Helena’s hand in marriage.  But she can’t leave us, can she?!”

            “Ragnar?”  Lagertha looked as if she could kill, and yet hurt that she was not included in this sudden situation.

            The man sighed.  “It’s true but I don’t see the problem!  Arne is a good man and he would treat Helena well.  I asked that she talk to him and decide for herself.  I don’t understand why everyone is so upset with me.”

            “We’ll talk later,” she said, glaring at him.  “Bjorn?  I assume that this is your problem as well.”

            “Yes, Mother.”

            “And Helena?  How do you feel about all of this?”

            The younger woman shrugged.  “From what little time we talked he seems nice.  I’m not sure yet.”

            “Athelstan?  How do you feel about all of this?”

            If he could have given her a death glare, he would have.  But it wasn’t just the two of them, and she was technically above him.  “I don’t know that it matters what I think.  I have no connection to any of it.”

            Lagertha didn’t stop herself from glaring at him, though, and turned to look at everyone.  “Helena is to choose what is to become of her life and we are not to make her feel badly if we do not agree with her decision.  Is that understood?”

            “But-“

            “No, Gyda.  I do not want to hear any more of this.  Are we clear?”

            They all nodded and went back to eating the food before them.

            “I am so grateful to all of you for bringing me in to your home and treating me so well.  I will not take this decision lightly, I promise,” Helena reassured.

            Athelstan could barely swallow the food that sat in his mouth.


	5. The Girl

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bonus chapter! Enjoy :)

_While I'm off chasing my own dreams_   
_Sailing around the world_   
_Please know that I'm yours to keep_   
_My beautiful girl_

_-City and Colour_

 

            As the snow melted and gave way to the sprouts of flowers and grass, the villagers found their shoes and clothes muddy more times than not.  Most days saw rain with a few exceptions to the sun peeking out and temperatures warming.  The men went out to start working the land once more, enjoying the work of their muscles, and the children ran around, frantic with play and laughter.

            Lagertha was fully round and waddling her way around the confines of the home where Helena had told her to stay.  She hadn’t taken well to being ordered by a servant of the home but, after trying to tackle some things that were too much, agreed to do some light duty chores.  Her due date was approaching quickly and the residents of the home hoped that it would come sooner rather than later because she was becoming unbearable.

            Ragnar took Athelstan and Bjorn out with him one day to continue their fighting lessons for preparedness in case anything was to happen like a few years prior.  Bjorn caught on faster than Athelstan, but that was due to the environment in which he grew up.  They were pitted against one another, and the women came out to watch.

            Athelstan let Bjorn take the first move, watching his foot work and the movements in his wrist that held a sword.  Bjorn came at him but Athelstan blocked, twirled the sword, and charged back.  They went in a circle, hearing as the women cheered them on.  Eventually Athelstan gained the upper hand and tossed Bjorn onto his back, the boy’s sword on the ground a few feet away.

            Ragnar clapped and came over to help his son up.  “Very good job to both of you.  Bjorn, remember to watch the wrist and the feet.  Never let your guard down.”

            “You are a good opponent, Bjorn.  Don’t listen to him,” said Athelstan, picking up the other’s sword and handing it to him.

            “Yes listen to me,” insisted Ragnar.  “I think I know better than the priest.”

            “I told you before; I’m no longer a priest.”

            “That much may be true, but you’ll always be ‘priest’ to me.”

            “Good job, Bjorn.  Soon enough you’ll be able to join your father in raids,” Helena said as she came up to them, Gyda and Lagertha trailing behind.

            Bjorn turned red from the attention by her.  Ragnar ruffled his son’s hair and chuckled.

            “Yes, but until then it will be Athelstan who will join me.”

            The group became silent, staring at Ragnar as if he announced that he was going to be baptized Christian.  Athelstan felt sick at the thought of having to join in the kind of behavior that had brought him in the first place; the kind of behavior that had killed so many of his friends.

            “Why?” he choked.

            “You’ll be fine, Athelstan.  I won’t make you do any sort of killing or the like.  I just need you beside me.  Lagertha will have to stay home with the baby and Bjorn isn’t ready yet.  You have to prove yourself a real citizen of this land sometime.”

            “But Athelstan is a man of God; it goes against his beliefs,” argued Helena.

            “I’m no longer a holy man, Helena.”

            She stared up at him.  “You may no longer be a monk but you are still a man of God.  All Christian men are.”

            “He’s coming with me and that’s final.”

            Ragnar and Bjorn walked off to put away the swords and shields.  Helena held onto Athelstan’s forearm with both of her hands, as if she could hope to keep him from what he was about to face.  Gyda walked up to him and hugged him; he returned it with one arm and a kiss on the top of her head.

            “If you don’t come back to us in one piece, I’ll kill him myself,” promised Lagertha before she headed back in the house.

 

            While Lagertha and Ragnar exchanged heated whispers that night, Athelstan and Helena exchanged worries looks.  He didn’t know when they would be leaving for the first raid of the season and the constant anticipation would kill him, he was sure of it.

            “I wish that there was something I could do to stop it,” Helena whispered to him.  She looked to be near tears.

            It was alright if he worried but he couldn’t stand to see her like this.  Not after everything she had already been through in life.  “I’ll be fine.  I’ll practice some more fight moves and I’ll stay out of the way.  I trust Ragnar when he says that he will try to keep me from anything too horrendous.”

            She nodded but the tears spilled over.  Athelstan reached over and wiped them away.  His fingers strayed and settled on her lips, that he then traced.  He could feel as her breathing picked up, the heat creating a bit of moisture on his thumb.

            “Have you given Arne your answer yet?” he asked, removing his fingers.

            Helena looked at him, thoroughly confused by his change in topic.  “No, I haven’t.  Why do you ask?”

            “I was just wondering who would have the honor of being given your colors before we left.”

            A smile crept up slowly on her mouth.  “Is there a reason you’re asking, Athelstan?”

            He smirked at her before turning his back to her.  “Good night, Helena.”

            He felt as she playfully shoved him before turning away as well.

 

            Athelstan was slowly dragged out of his dream state by hushed voices.  His body was too tired to move and yet he felt compelled to bring himself to full waking no matter how long it took.  As he became more aware of his surroundings, he heard Helena’s sweet voice talking to someone about how much time they had and how far along someone was.  She was soon joined by Ragnar’s gruff voice, who sounded calm and yet frightened at the same time.

            Opening his eyes, he was greeted by a soft fire light.  Just as he had heard, Ragnar and Helena stood next to the fire, heads bowed in deep discussion.  A low moaning came from his left where Lagertha was to be sleeping.  Athelstan sat up as things began to make sense.  Throwing his blanket off, he walked over to Ragnar and Helena.

            “Is she in labor?” he asked, his voice thick with sleep.

            Ragnar nodded his head. 

            “She should be delivering soon,” replied Helena.

            “Do I need to fetch someone to help you?” Athelstan offered.

            “No, but I would appreciate it if you could wake Gyda for me.  I’ll need her help with cleaning the baby and such.”

            Athelstan nodded and set off to gently wake Gyda from her bed.  The girl groaned at first before jumping awake.

            “What’s wrong?” she asked, rubbing at her blue eyes.

            “Your mother is in labor.  Helena says that she will deliver soon, but that she needs your help through the process.”

            Gyda nodded and hopped out of bed, awake and alert, her hair sticking out at odd ends.  They joined the other two in the room as Lagertha continued her moans. 

            “Athelstan, Ragnar, please stay here while we tend to Lagertha.  If we need your help I will let you know.”  Helena turned back to them.  “You might want to prepare Bjorn.”

            As Helena entered the area designated as Ragnar and Lagertha’s bedroom, Bjorn joined the men having heard his mother’s increasing cries.  He sat down next to Ragnar and grumbled about being tired, putting his head between his knees.

            Minutes seemed to take forever with this business; Gyda came out to fetch water and some rags before heading back in without any word to the men.  Athelstan got up and paced just so he could have something to do.  Ragnar chuckled behind him, carving into a piece of wood with his knife.

            “Calm down, priest.  It’s not as bad as all that.”

            “I’m fine,” he insisted.  “I’m just trying to not fall back to sleep.”

            The other two laughed at the statement, and Athelstan decided to sit back down.  A few minutes later, they heard a cry.  All three men stood immediately, awaiting the news.

            “It’s a boy!” exclaimed Gyda.  Her smile was as radiant as the sun, and she looked extremely proud.

            Both Bjorn and Athelstan clapped Ragnar on the back as a congratulation.  He, in turn, hugged his daughter.  Helena joined them after some time, also looking very happy.

            “The baby is healthy and handsome.  Congratulations, Ragnar.  You can go see them now.”

            Athelstan stood back to allow the family to bond.  While he sat, he closed his eyes and gave up a prayer of thanks; for getting Lagertha safely through the delivery, for a healthy child, and the continuation of his beloved new family. 

            “Aren’t you coming, Athelstan?” questioned Gyda from the corner of the dividing wall.

            He looked up and smiled at her.  “Of course.”  He walked back and was greeted by Lagertha.

            “I thought maybe you had fallen back to sleep,” she joked.

            “How could I with such excitement?”

            Helena came up to him, a small bundle of blankets held lovingly in her arms.  “Would you like to hold him?”

            “I-I don’t know…”

            “Come on, priest.  He needs your blessing as well,” Ragnar said.

            Helena handed the newborn over to him, making sure that Athelstan had a proper hold of him before letting go.  The baby looked like a miniature version of Bjorn, and he was sucking on his tiny fingers quite vigorously.

            “His name is Ivar,” Lagertha announced.

            “A strong name,” replied Athelstan.  He played with the baby’s fingers, inspecting how tiny and perfect they were, little fingernails to match each one.  Ivar grabbed on to his pinky and gripped hard.  “And a strong boy indeed.”

            “You’re a natural,” Helena noted, looking at him with pride.

            “I don’t know about that,” but he smiled nonetheless.  Walking over to Lagertha, he handed the baby to her.  “I’m so very happy for you all.”

            “He’s your family, too, Athelstan,” Ragnar said. 

            Leaving mother to feed baby, the children and Helena and Athelstan went back to bed, exhausted and relieved.

 

            After a couple of weeks of adjusting to the new addition, Ragnar and the men came to the conclusion that the weather was well enough to start raiding once more.  Following the death of Earl Haraldson, the Vikings came together and made the country a more democratic place, in which the villages would have their own elder and yet work together for the benefit of all.  Ragnar had been made the elder of his village, given a short history as Earl.  He and his confidants had decided that the traveling weather was finally ideal and that they would set out the next day.

            Athelstan made sure on their last day in the village that he had everything in order to make it easier on Helena and Bjorn.  As he gathered the last of the supplies, Gyda made her way over to him.

            “Are you sure you can do this, Athelstan?” she asked.

            He gathered her in his arms.  “I need to make it back to you, so of course I’ll be alright.  But thank you for asking.”

            “I know you don’t believe in them, but I’ve prayed to the gods to keep you and father safe.  I’ll miss you very much.”

            “I’ll miss you as well.  Promise me to keep your mother and Helena from getting too emotional about it while we’re gone?”

            She gave him one of her dazzling smiles.  “Of course.”  She went to go into the house for the evening but waited for him.  He followed her, wrapping an arm around her shoulders.  “Are you going to stop Arne from marrying Helena once you’re back?”

            Athelstan’s eyebrows furrowed.  “Why would I do that?”

            “Because you love her.  I know you do.  And she loves you as well, even though she won’t let anyone know because she respects the fact that you used to be a priest.”

            He was at a loss for words.  Was she right?  Or was this Gyda the Romantic talking?  “I don’t think that she feels that way, Gyda.  What makes you say such things?”

            “Because I see the way you two look at one another when the other’s back is turned.  I think you would be amazing together; almost as good as my parents.”

            Athelstan let out a hearty laugh and escorted her the rest of the way into the house.

            Before falling asleep, while the children were in bed and Ragnar and Lagertha settled in for as long as they could before Ivar woke again, Helena stopped Athelstan from settling in himself.

            “I was thinking that I could braid your hair so that you could fit in more with the men.”

            Her eyes were so sincere he could hardly say no.  Nodding his head, he put his back to her and stared at the dividing wall.  Her fingers were nimble and felt like feathers on his scalp.  He had to stop himself from sighing; it felt wondrous to have someone else run their fingers through his hair besides his own.

            When she was finished, Athelstan’s hair had a few braids among the curls, a design that was then pulled back into a ponytail.  Before he could move away, Helena put her hands on either side of his head and kissed the crown of it, where it had been shaved for so many years prior to this life.  She then wrapped her arms around his shoulders, with a hand landing on the area of his heart and the other on his ribs.  Athelstan could feel the wetness of her tears on his neck as she bent over him.

            “Please, Lord, keep this man safe,” she begged, the words sticking in her throat.

            He closed his eyes and reveled in her closeness, resting his hands on top of hers.

 

            Standing at the dock, the men said their good-byes to their families.  Ragnar hugged Gyda, gave instructions to Bjorn, and kissed both Lagertha and Ivar.

            “Promise to come back to me, or to die in battle,” said Lagertha.  She was still hormonal from the birth and breastfeeding, so the tears came easily.

            “Do you expect anything less from me?”

            She smacked his arm, which he grabbed and pulled her in for a more passionate kiss.

            “I’ll come back to you.  I promise.”

            “And please bring the priest back with you.  Alive and in one piece, preferably.”

            “If you insist.”  He smirked at her and walked away to the ship, where he greeted his fellow men.  They were all standing there, admiring Floki’s work.

            “Do you have everything?  Will you be alright?” Helena asked.  Athelstan could tell that she was worried and so he tried his best to comfort her.

            “I have everything; you checked this morning, remember?  And I’ll be fine.  Will you?”

            “Don’t be ridiculous.  I’m not the one who is leaving to invade others’ lives and go against everything that I believe in.”

            Athelstan ran his hand down her forearm to hold her hand.  “As long as you’re here when I get back, I can do this.”

            He could see that she understood the weight of his words.  She bit down on her lower lip and searched his eyes.  “As long as you promise to come back, I’ll be here.” 

            Athelstan felt as she let go of his hand and replaced it with something soft.  Looking down, he found a handkerchief there.

            “I will see you in a few weeks’ time, then.”  He bent over and kissed her cheek before turning to say his good-byes to the rest of the family and joining the other men.

            The village’s men got into the ship, putting their few belongings next to them at their rowing stations.  Athelstan watched as the families moved towards the docking to wave as the men set sail.  Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Arne walk up to Helena and say a few words.  She smiled in turn and replied, but he could not read her lips.  Disappointment set in to his bones; he had nearly forgotten about Arne.  The man then left her and got into the ship.

            The ropes keeping them docked were undone and Athelstan felt a shift underneath him.  The ship drifted away from the dock and forwards from the current.  The women and children waved as their heads of households left.  Ragnar ordered the men to lift rows and begin the journey back west.


	6. Seven Devils

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry it took so long in the day to post this; storms have been bad here. Glad that today ended better than it looked this morning…happy to hear the Boston can breathe a little easier tonight.
> 
> So my best friend, after I pushed her a little, told me that the story was good but that I wasn’t painting the picture well enough as she knew I could. It was exactly what I was looking for; I knew that it wasn’t my best writing but I couldn’t pinpoint what the problem was! So what was originally 11 pages of writing had to be edited and improved, and now will have to be cut in half because I’m sure you all aren’t looking for novel size chapters here lol Please let me know if you see an improvement or not! WARNING: The raid takes place during this chapter; there will be gory scenes. I figure if you’re watching the show, you’re okay with that, but still wanted to put it out there.

_Holy water cannot help you now  
A thousand armies couldn't keep me out_

_…And what have we done?  
Can it be undone?_

_-Florence + the Machine_

 

            Athelstan pulled his outer clothing close to him to shield the chilled air from breezing through his thinner summer shirt.  The weather around them was calm but the early season air was still warming up from winter.  He watched as Rollo slowly made his way from the bow of the ship, his legs one with the waves, before settling down next to him with the stealth of a barn cat.

            “This will be fun, slave,” he mumbled, his breath heating Athelstan’s ear.

            Athelstan said nothing in turn, rather feeling his heart quickening as if he had just run a race.  His eyes caught Ragnar’s who had just noticed where his brother had managed to sneak off to. 

            “Rollo,” Ragnar called out in a bored voice, motioning for the older man to come join him where he belonged.  Rollo didn’t bother to look at his beckoner and instead smirked at Athelstan before walking away.  He clamped his hand down on some of the men’s shoulders as he went, showing his support for his favorites, which created a taste of bile in Athelstan’s mouth.

            Once he felt that his hands had become steady again, Athelstan picked up his oar and continued rowing along with the others, wincing at the slight pain.  He had grown calluses while working on the farm but that was nothing compared to the constant motion with the wood between his hands.  Willing himself to not think of the ache that spread like fire from his fingertips to his shoulders and down his back, he let his mind wonder to home, and to Helena and what she may be doing at this moment.  What he wouldn’t give to be on dry land and tilling away at the fresh soil of the spring instead of this hell and what awaited him once they landed.

            “Who braided your hair, monk?” asked a voice to his left.  Without looking he knew it was Arne.  From the tone of his voice, he could also gander that the man knew who had done Athelstan’s hair but just wanting to confirm his suspicions. 

            “Helena,” he reluctantly answered, continuing with the roll of his shoulders and clench of his thigh muscles.

            There was a pause, and he noticed that some of the other men shared looks between each other.  Athelstan could feel sweat begin to creep along his brow and neck, anxiety as to how the others might react.  It was one thing for Arne, with his smaller frame and height, to be angry with Athelstan; it was another thing for the larger men to take the opposing side and killing Athelstan where he sat. 

            “She’s spoken for,” Arne growled, the words landing like spit between them.

            “Really?” Athelstan pushed, internally yelling at himself because he couldn’t understand where this attitude was coming from and yet continuing on.  “I was unaware that she had given you an answer.”

            He had done it now; the sweat dropped from his neck and made a path down his spine.  Arne leapt from his seat, not caring of the gravity and force against him being at sea, and lunged straight for Athelstan’s neck.  Athelstan turned to face his attacker, holding him off as best as he could, their strength matched but their positions not.  He felt as Arne pushed down harder, gaining the upper hand, his face inching closer and turning purple.  Some of the men got up to break them apart; a ship at sea was no place for such behavior. 

            “STOP!” Ragnar roared, coming to the scene.  He shoved Arne back down in his seat, and Athelstan could feel the ship sway to that side before righting itself.  “This is neither the time nor the place.  And stop instigating fights, _both_ of you!”

            As the men settled back down, Athelstan felt the weight of what just happened, blinking back the swell of tears and praying for the journey to end so that they could return home as soon as possible.

 

            The cheers and whistles woke him from his allotted slumber, and he sat up in a state of grogginess to find that they were about to land.  The weeks had been rough; the men were animals, and he had come to the conclusion that the amount of egos let onto a ship should be limited for safety and sanity.  Athelstan instantly picked up his sword and shield, following what the others around him were doing, and joined the men once they were able to jump ship and make their way to land.  The sand squished beneath their shoes and buried their feet as the seagulls flew ahead, announcing the Vikings’ arrival.  The muck slowed their movements as they struggled along the shoreline, but the sun still shone to the East so they had plenty of time to make their way into the nearby village.

            As Athelstan’s feet weighed him down and he took in his surroundings, images of his brothers and the monastery in flames rushed up to meet him.  The quiet of the shoreline reminded him of his life before this, in which he would take his time to go down to collect dinner for them all, in awe of the beauty that God had given them.  The dunes catching the wind brought back an image of when Athelstan had first come to the monastery and would run amongst them, reaching high above him in attempt to catch the clouds between his chubby fingers. 

Catching himself, he steadied on to keep up with Ragnar and Rollo, their designated leaders by nature.  They continued traveling on foot for quite some time until they found a village nearby.  Athelstan knew that they would keep their distance until the time was deemed ripe for the taking and then innocent lives with no inclination prior to would be destroyed in an instant.

            They sat on a hilltop, drying out their shoes and clothes.  When he would wiggle his toes for something to do rather than stare at dead space around him, Athelstan could feel the sand within his shoes.  It was annoying and uncomfortable, and the feeling made his skin crawl.  Ragnar stood up after some time and motioned for the group to continue forward.  Dread seeped into Athelstan’s bones and his heart thudded against his chest to the point of pain.  The sweat from his palms made it difficult to keep a good grip on his sword, and he constantly had to adjust it on the handle. 

            Ragnar hung back for a moment to find Athelstan.  “Move faster to stick close to my side.  I’ll protect you as best as I can if these people go to attack us.”

            “You mean protect themselves,” he corrected. 

            Ragnar narrowed his eyes.  “Take what goods you can and nothing else.  If our men feel like fighting, let them, but don’t you make a fight out of it.”

            That wouldn’t be a problem.  Athelstan nodded, his neck stiff and uncooperative, and picked up his pace to continue the walk directly behind Ragnar.  Rollo looked back at him out of the corner of his eyes, a flash of merriment evident.

            “Don’t _you_ try anything stupid,” Ragnar commanded his brother, noting the look.  Rollo did not take well to it but did not comment otherwise.

            The smell of dirt, sweat, and manure, and the snap of clothes on lines would be what Athelstan would remember years from now; the rest would be forgotten, too difficult to take in that his mind did him a justice in letting the details go. 

His breath was ragged and coming out in short stents, and he feared not only for these villagers but for himself; his embarrassment would be too much if he fainted in this moment. 

            Ragnar turned around to make sure that all of his men were gathered around.  Giving the signal, they spread out to knock down the doors of the homes, to rape and pillage, and do as they saw fit in order to get what they had come for.  Ragnar had wished to keep to a Sunday when they could have attacked everyone at once because he had come to figure out that it worked best for all, but that would have required waiting for almost a week.  They were going to have to go about this with old plans and see how well it worked.

As the men spread out, Athelstan saw everything as if it had been slowed down; the native men drawing their swords to fight back, the women hiding their children or running for their lives, the small ones screaming and crying right where they sat.  He stood in the same spot, frozen with disgust and fear, unable to move the tiniest of muscles.  His knees knocked together and his sword slipped slightly from his hand before his reflex took over and he grabbed it.

            Ragnar did his best to not only protect himself but to also keep others away from the monk who stood there, not doing a damned thing.  “ATHELSTAN,” he yelled, sinking his sword into the belly of a native.  “Do something!”

            Athelstan snapped to attention and walked over to the nearest home, where the dark wooden door was still shut.  Upon entering he saw a family crouching in the corner next to the firewood, the father with a small dagger in his hands, breathing hard and trying to hide the others as best as he could with his body.  He and Athelstan locked eyes, not knowing what to make of the other.  There was a beat of silence, both men taking in what body language the other was showing.  With no instigation on Athelstan’s part, the man charged at him, dagger held high above his head; a protection and last stand for his family.

            “Please, I don’t want to hurt you,” Athelstan pleaded in his native tongue, all the while holding up his sword as a defense.  He could have easily run the man through if he continued on the path towards him, but he was more preoccupied with the thought that these words tasted strange as they tumbled out of his mouth, a forgotten food suddenly put back on his plate.

            The villager stopped dead in his tracks, confused by this other who was unlike anyone he had ever met; braided dark hair, bright scared eyes, and speaking Anglo-Saxon.  He dropped the dagger to his side and looked back at his wife, searching for an answer on her part.  She shrugged her shoulders as a response, dropping her arms from her children just the slightest.

            “I just need you to give me your goods and then I’ll leave.”  Athelstan held out his burlap bag as a peace offering of sorts, praying that he would not be forced to murder.  He didn’t think that he stomach, heart, or soul could handle it.

            The man continued to eye Athelstan as if he was a freak of nature.  _If only he knew_.  But something gave and he went about the house, motioning his wife to help.  They placed all their worldly goods in the bag as fast as they could, and Athelstan managed to give a small smile to the three children that still hovered in the corner.  The youngest returned it with a set of dimples, but the other two were just as confused as their parents.

            “That’s all we have,” the man said.  “I’m sorry there’s not more.”

            “This is more than plenty.  Thank you,” he answered, swinging the bag over his shoulder.  “Now hide somewhere so they don’t find you.  I’ll leave the door open so they know it’s been raided already.”

            The parents nodded and gathered their children in a different area.  Athelstan walked out of the house to find Ragnar; what he discovered instead were slaughtered men and women in the street, their bodies dumped as if their lives had meant nothing.  Pools of blood had formed, and there was even a toddler squatting next to his mother’s limp form, playing with the warm liquid that had spurted from her slit neck.  Spotting a beheaded man near his feet, Athelstan found himself turning and heaving his stomach contents next to the house he had just left.  Rollo came up next to him while he was still hunched over, and clamped a hand on Athelstan’s shoulder.

            “First killings are always the hardest.  Then you become a real man and get over it,” he snarled.  “Try to man up, priest.”

            Athelstan stood at his full height and gave Rollo the most daring glare he could muster.  His hatred for this Viking man deepened and spread roots from his head to his heart, lungs, and stomach.

            “My, my.  If I didn’t know better, I would be intimidated by you right now.”  Rollo chuckled before walking off to join the others that were now gathered.

            As the fighting came to an end, and the town an eerie quiet, Ragnar gathered the men around him and looked each one in the eyes.  “We’ve done our job, and the gods are pleased.  Now it’s time that we set camp for the night before heading back and showing our families the bounty that we have been blessed with.”

            The men cheered and marched back towards the forest that they had come through earlier.  Athelstan felt heat under his collar; these innocents had been murdered, all for their goods, and now Ragnar was claiming that they had been “blessed”?  Ridiculous!  He heaved his bag over his shoulder and moved towards the trees, not looking back on the damage that had been done.

            “I see that you handled yourself well,” Ragnar said to him as they walked along.  Athelstan looked up to see a faint smile on his face; pride for his slave and friend.

            “I asked for their goods and did no harm.  Hardly a Viking, I would say.”  He paused before deciding on how to get his point across.  “And don’t you dare go back to finish them off, do you understand?”

            Ragnar raised a blood smeared eyebrow at the smaller man but decided to respect the man’s wishes and continued on in silence.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh boy…sassy!Athelstan lol Hope you enjoyed the chapter :)


	7. Whispers in the Dark

_And I've learned from errors made early_   
_A brush with the devil can clear your mind_   
_And strengthen your spine_

_-Mumford and Sons_

 

Athelstan’s night was fraught with the screams of those drowning in their own blood, a gurgling noise that resembled the sound of when he would muck out the pig pens back at Lindisfarne, his feet stuck in the mud as he would rustle around.  If he wasn’t weighed down in dreamland of the sins of the men surrounding him by the fire, he was tossing about in a futile attempt to get comfortable.  Eventually he found himself on his feet, supporting his body against a tree, knowing that sleep would not come easily for quite some time in his life. 

The sounds around him, ones that others might find frightening or attention inducing, gave Athelstan comfort; a nearby owl hooted, a crack of a stick somewhere among the woods, the love song of a pair of crickets.  They were all a memory of a prior time that settled his raging soul and eased his drained body.  The light of the moon bounced off of the leaves, creating stars on the ground that winked up at him. 

He woke suddenly when a rough pair of hands shook him violently.  Athelstan gasped and jumped up from his seat on the forest floor, his head still resting against the welcoming grandfather tree.  When had he fallen asleep?

“It’s time to go, Athelstan,” Ragnar commanded, handing the man his bag before moving on to gather up the rest of the group.

“Is your mind not at ease, priest?” Floki pondered out loud, chewing on something or other.  “I don’t recall you being there when I fell asleep last night.”

Athelstan ran a hand over his face before wiping off his bottom and swinging the bag over his shoulder.  “Of course it’s not at ease, Floki.  Why in God’s name would it be after what I just witnessed?”

Floki gave a chuckle and stalked off towards the shoreline, never saying another word of Athelstan’s inner turmoil.

The men around him were talking excitedly around him as they made their way to the boat, their mouths resembling that of a hummingbird’s wings.  Athelstan wished to stay here; to take in those poor children orphaned by these men’s hands, and to gather resources to help others that had escaped to get back on their feet.  But then he remembered that this journey would take him back to his home and to the arms of those he loved best.  _Helena_. 

Helena, whom he knew would be the only one to comfort his soul at this point.  He felt his body drawing closer to the boat, a magnet, already knowing that it was the only way to his salvation. 

As the days turned into nights, Athelstan found the rowing motion to be soothing rather than aching.  He let his mind wander to days of old, when he would chant with his brothers, a simpler time in which Athelstan did not question his life or choices.  Every day was planned from morning until bed, no hesitation, no wondering if life was better elsewhere.  He remembered the day that Ragnar Lothbrok and his men entered his life; the fear and beginning of doubts spreading quickly among his bones.  He recalled the beginning moments of his relationship with Ragnar, Lagertha, Bjorn, and Gyda; unknown, uncomfortable, until it gave way to something familiar and territorial.  He had a flash of his very first memory of Helena, when he hadn’t even considered the thoughts of marriage, or children, or throwing away his “calling.”

Athelstan hesitated, his oar forgotten momentarily before smacking him in his chin, causing him to bite his tongue.  He could feel the blood pooling in his mouth before grabbing hold of the culprit once more.  He had known that Helena meant everything to him but not until this moment, when he felt even more lost than his first days in Scandinavia, that he had realized exactly what he wanted from their relationship.  Athelstan had seen in the villager that he stole from during their raid something of what he now wished for; a purpose, a reason in which he could both love and yet serve his Lord, even if the distance between him and his faith was getting to be more and more.

            After that, he stole a look at Arne.  Athelstan hated that he had so much disgust towards a man that he hardly knew.  And what he did know of Arne prior to the situation with Helena made him feel even worse about it.  The man was simply infatuated with her, and who could blame him?  But Athelstan…he _loved_ Helena.  And that counted for more, didn’t it?

            Athelstan made the decision then and there that, if she would have him, he would do everything in his power to make sure that they would marry, have their own home, their own land, and as many children as she wanted.  He would do anything to make her happy until the end of their days, like she made him without even knowing it.

            He started to pray that he was seeing God’s plan for him.  And that she would say yes.

 

            Athelstan heard the cheers in greeting before even seeing anyone in detail.  The roar sounded like an echo off of a cave wall, the source only becoming clear once you happened upon it.  The dock and surrounding area was filled with family members helping to bring the ship and its members in.  The new vessel had done its job, held without trouble, and therefore Floki was the first off to shout his praises and adorations of it, bringing it and all of the beautiful details to people’s attention.

            Ragnar and Athelstan were the last two off of the ship, the one because he was used to the praises and the other because he didn’t want any of it.  Rollo smirked down at Athelstan as he walked past, knowing that the younger man had no pleasure in the trip and was hardened by it.

            “There they are,” Ragnar mumbled, spotting the family just ahead.  He walked before Athelstan, hugging Gyda and shaking hands with Bjorn before kissing Lagertha.  Little Ivar had grown leaps and bounds in the time that they had been away, and he kicked with a frenzy at the sight of the golden man before him.

            Athelstan, who had been focused on the sight of the family, had the wind knocked out of him as Helena ran and leapt into his arms.  Her arms were strong around his neck and he could feel one of her hands gripping his hair.  He immediately felt relief and peace.  _Home_.

            “Thank God,” she whispered in his ear.  She pulled back to pull his face into her hands.  “I was so worried the entire time.  Are you alright?  You’re not hurt, are you?”

            “No, Ragnar kept his word,” he answered, smiling at her concern. 

            “Good, good.  And you didn’t have to…”

            “No,” he replied quickly, knowing of her worry for him to have to kill.  “There are benefits to knowing the language.”

            She gave him a dazzling smile and walked him to join the others.  “I see your hair stayed.”

            “Yes, thanks to you.”  He paused.  “Arne was jealous when he found out.”

            Helena stopped in her tracks and looked as if she was going to be sick.  “He didn’t give you too much trouble, did he?”

            Athelstan recalled the fight on the journey over to England when, for a second, he feared that he may not have returned, but decided to withhold that information for her benefit.  “Not too much, no.”

            “Helena has done nothing but worried or talked about you the entire time you were gone,” Lagertha greeted, her tone that of her usual boldness.  “I told her that if she didn’t stop, she was going to put herself into an early grave.  Or I would do it for her.”

            Helena blushed at the revelation, and Athelstan couldn’t help but chuckle at the idea of Lagertha threatening her confidant.  So she had worried that much about him?  Maybe he was right in believing that they belonged together.

            “I thought it was romantic,” Gyda insisted, playing with Ivar’s tiny fingers as he reached for her.

            “Of course you did,” Bjorn groaned, rolling his eyes.  “Father, I _insist_ that I join you in the next raid.  I don’t think I can spend another moment with all of these women!”

            “You had Ivar,” Ragnar joked, beginning to walk back to the family home.

            “Very funny,” Bjorn answered, shoving his father’s arm away as the older man went to ruffle his blond locks.

            As they walked along, Helena wove her arm in Athelstan’s.  No one in their group made a scene of it but he could feel the immediate change around them.  She had not said anything to Arne at the dock as far as Athelstan could remember, and seemed uncomfortable at the mention of his name.  Was he imagining these things because he wanted so much to be right about his idea?  His heart thundered in his chest, and he had to remind himself to take deep breaths to keep calm.

            The home was just as they left it, and Athelstan breathed in its scent of dirt, yeast, and infant.  He was happy in this moment, much happier than he had been in the past couple of weeks, and hoped that it would last.  Helena took his and Ragnar’s bags to empty them and find any possible clothing that needed to be washed.  Lagertha sat at the table to continue talking to Ragnar, and invited Athelstan to join them.

            Gyda brought a plate of cheese, bread, and fruits while Bjorn got the mug of ale.  Athelstan was grateful for the full belly and quenched thirst, but mostly for the comfort of family surrounding him.  Lagertha questioned every aspect of the journey, and he could tell that, as much as she loved her children, she wished to be joining Ragnar on a raid instead.  It was the Shieldmaiden in her; a patriot and fighter to the very end.

            “How was the journey for you, Athelstan?  Did my husband keep his word?”  Lagertha took a sip of ale as she waited for an answer, rocking Ivar to sleep in her arms.

            He looked to her, formerly distracted by Helena’s movements.  “Yes, Ragnar kept his word.”  Her questioning expression pushed him to further answer her.  “I do not care for raiding.  It’s not in my nature.”

            Lagertha shrugged her shoulders, picking at the cheese.  “Then you will not have to go again.”

            “I’m sorry?” Ragnar asked, choking on his drink, wiping away some spit from his chin.

            “Athelstan proved himself as a citizen.  Once is enough.  You and I both knew that he wasn’t cut out for that aspect of our lives.  Bjorn can go next time.”

            The oldest son looked smug and thrilled with his mother’s orders.  She was much more tolerable now that the baby had been born, and was now his most favorite person in the world.

            Athelstan caught sight of Helena leaving the home with his and Ragnar’s wash.  He excused himself and followed her, his heart fluttering with the idea of what he was about to do.  The sun was hidden behind some clouds but he spotted a ray bursting through, and it boosted his confidence.  It was as if the Lord himself was giving his permission, and since Helena did not have a father for Athelstan to ask, he was going to take this sign as his answer.

            “Helena,” he called out, reaching for her.

            She stopped after hearing her name, and looked down at his hand on her arm.  “Yes, Athelstan?”  Her face showed no enthusiasm; she was strictly focused on getting the wash done before the day was over.

            He gave her a gentle smile before grabbing the basket of clothes and putting it down by the fence.  “Can we go for a walk?”

            Helena hesitated, focusing on the basket and pausing before finally answering, “Certainly.”

            Athelstan led her in a direction away from the home, where they would go up a slope and be able to see the beginnings of the ocean.  They walked among the growing grass, thick and deep green, awake with the deep scent of summer.  The sounds of the crocuses were faint in the background, a soft hum through their limbs that created a dizzy feeling.  Athelstan reached for her hand, stopping in the middle of the field surrounding them with daffodils and crocuses.

            “I had a lot of time to think while I was gone, Helena.  And I thought about a great deal of things.  But I mostly thought of you.”

            She avoided his gaze but he watched as her cheeks painted themselves pink.

            “I know that we haven’t had the most usual way of getting to know one another, and that you have had Arne come around on the possibility that he have you in marriage.”  He stopped momentarily, to gather his thoughts precisely.  “Helena, I know that I was a monk during my time in England, but I haven’t been a practicing monk in some time.  You…you make me so happy, Helena, happier than I ever thought another human being could make me.  I have never felt like this with anyone else, and at the thought of losing you I became very angry.  Angry that God would send you here if not to be with me, angry at Arne for making the suggestion that you belonged with him, and angry with myself for not realizing it sooner that I think I could make you just as happy as you make me.”

            He took a deep breath and made the move to hold both of her hands in his.  “What I’m trying to say is, if you’ll have me, I would love to spend the rest of my life with you.  Will you be my wife?”  

            Helena’s eyes were watery but he couldn’t read what was going through her mind.  After a few moments of silence, Athelstan released her hands and took a step back, his world darkening just a bit more at a time.

            “I’m sorry.  I thought that maybe—“

            “Yes,” she whispered.  Her hands flew up to her mouth and sobs began shortly after.  “I would love nothing better than to be with you.”

            Was it possible for one’s heart to burst with relief and happiness?  Because if it was, Athelstan feared he would die before taking this set of vows. 

            “Really?” he breathed.

            “It’s taken you long enough,” she laughed.

            He joined her before taking her soft face in his hands and kissing her mouth gently.  Her lips were salty from the tears, but full of hope and promise, love and adoration.  Athelstan could have spent forever in that field exploring his betrothed’s lips, molding the memories that they would allow for themselves in that time.  Athelstan was living in a moment so perfect that he was sure that nothing better could happen to him.  He had made the right decision, and he was finally going to get what his heart truly desired.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well I guess you all got your wish ;) But I can’t say that all good things continue…muhahaha. Oh, and is anyone sure if Athelstan went and lost his virginity this past episode?? I’m slightly confused. Tried tweeting George but he hasn’t answered me. Did he just need a bath?? LOL I just don’t understand why they wouldn’t have shown it since the monk’s innocence is such a joke with this show, and they show anyone else having sex. If anyone can honestly answer this please let me know! Thanks!


	8. No Light, No Light

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WTF?! Seriously, what was that?? So MANY emotions over this finale! I can’t…I can’t…WTF?! So, in my opinion, I’ll be fixing that mess of a finale (what would we possibly have done if they hadn’t gotten picked up for another season?!) in upcoming chapters. You’ll understand. And, in fact, one of those messes will be fixed within this chapter because I refuse to kill Gyda off. Half of this chapter was already written before Sunday and I’m not going to kill her off later on (at least I don’t see it happening). Hopefully you all enjoy where I take these characters now that I feel like I have some freedom to work with instead of praying that they don’t kill off Athelstan constantly lol. 
> 
> These ideas will come to light in the next chapter, but for now I will introduce the voice of Helena! I must say…not as easy as I thought it would be :/ Oh, and it’s uber long. You’ve been warned! Let me know your thoughts on her, and if you would want to hear from her later on down the road. Without further ado!

_'cause it's so easy_   
_To say it to a crowd_   
_But it's so hard, my love,_   
_To say it to you out loud_

_-Florence + the Machine_

 

            Helena walked with Gyda to the water, both of them carrying dirty clothes to be laundered.  Gyda was chatting away a mile a minute and Helena smiled at the young girl’s carefree nature, wishing that she could act the same way.  It was ironic, really, considering that Gyda was exactly as Helena had been as a girl back in England.  She had had her friends, and her parents had always encouraged her to join in activities once her chores had been done; her favorite had been to practice her dancing by the river, giggling and without a care in the world.  But with the men gone on a raid, her mind was plagued with too many ill thoughts, ones in which a certain monk was forced to act as those who had visited her village and kidnapped her, and so she could not join in on Gyda’s happiness.

            Setting the baskets down on the riverbank, they each grabbed a garment and wadded into the calm waters to start cleaning them.  Time passed and Helena relished the sound of the small waves lapping at her legs, the chirps of the birds high in the trees, and of Gyda’s melodic humming.  The sun was warm upon her skin and she could feel her muscles relax almost instantly in its presence.

            “You’re quiet today, Helena,” Gyda spoke after a few moments.  “Are you feeling alright?”

            The language of the Norsemen had been difficult to learn at first, but Athelstan had been a wonderful and patient teacher, and so now she was able to keep up with conversations, taking it in as her first language.

            _Athelstan_.

            Shaking her head, she replied, “Yes.  I’m just worried about the men is all.”

            Gyda gave her a knowing smile, well beyond her years.  “Mother used to worry all the time while Father was gone, though she tried not to show it.  I guess Ivar takes up her attention now.”  There was a pregnant pause as Helena went back to scrubbing.  “You love him, don’t you?  Athelstan.”

            Helena stopped as the breath was knocked out of her by some invisible source.  “Of course I do.  Just as I love you, Bjorn, Ivar, and your parents.”

            “I don’t mean like that, and you know it.”

            Helena stood up from her hunched posture and faced the younger girl.  “It’s complicated, Gyda.”

            “What could possibly be complicated about love?”

            Helena giggled at her naivety, near tears at the wish that she could be the same once more.  “Oh Gyda, if only you truly understood the world in which Athelstan and I came from.”

            “But you’re not part of that world anymore; you’re part of ours.  Surely that counts as something.”

            “I have Arne,” Helena said in a final tone, not wanting to show Gyda how much it truly hurt to talk about this subject, but regretting it when she saw the girl’s reaction.  “I’m sorry, Gyda, I didn’t mean to hurt your feelings.  I just don’t wish to talk about it anymore.  Please try to understand.”

            Gyda nodded once and went back to her work, and so Helena did the same, allowing time in which to let her mind wander.

            She couldn’t recall much detail about the first day in which she met Athelstan.  It had been the day that the boat docked in this new land after weeks at sea, battling harsh seas and even harsher men.  Helena had seen him almost immediately, standing out like a sore thumb, so like and yet unlike the giant men and women that surrounded him, but her mind was not on him.  Instead, she was focused on surviving, being pulled all over the place by that vicious man, Rollo.  It was Athelstan who had helped her keep her balance when he had pulled too hard on the ropes, sending her flying.  The only true first memory she had of Athelstan was the feel of his warm forearm under her aching hands that had rung together in fervor prayer on the journey over.  His eyes were a beautiful blue, she thought before she was pulled once more towards town.  And then to Rollo’s forsaken house.

            It was during those first days, while she lay on her back and took the sexual attacks and beatings, Rollo breathing in her ear and whispering words that left a dirt taste in her mouth, that Helena had thoughts of a way out.  There were many ideas, but none of which seemed plausible, until she decided that her best bet was to walk to the water and somehow drown herself.  That was when Lagertha and Gyda had found her, in shock with both eyes swollen and cuts all over her body.

            After that was haziness.  She had apparently been unconscious for some time until her body decided to come to, Athelstan right by her side.  Helena had no clue as of what to make of the man, completely forgetting their first meeting at the moment.  It was his gentle voice and native tongue that calmed her, and started a new beginning.  One in which she did not wish death upon herself.  It was a miracle, considering her thoughts over the past few weeks.

            Helena held onto Athelstan as if he was her savior.  In a way he was.  He was her way of survival, her link between her old life and this new one.  Athelstan made it his job to teach her the Viking way of life so that she wouldn’t stand out more so than usual, how to work the land that Ragnar and Lagertha owned, how to gain the trust of these people who had taken her in, and the language.  He was patient and kind with her, and she was grateful for his friendship.

            But there were still nightmares and flashbacks and moments of panic that would sneak up on her like the fog creeping in on the River Stour back in England.  It was mostly that of Benjamin, her former betrothed.  Helena had told Athelstan that Benjamin had died just shortly before their wedding, in her arms, ill with some unknown sickness.  The truth was that she had been forced to stand and take witness of his wrists cut and mangled by the binding ropes, high above his head, his belly being gutted by one of Ragnar’s men.  On that day when the strangers had flooded their streets and homes, their invasion like that of a plague brought on by God, it was Benjamin who had decided to not stand by and watch as his village was sieged by these infamous men.  That was what he got for being so headstrong, brave, and loving.  She had been able to run to him in enough time to hold his face in her lap, his blood seeping into her dress and creating a blanket around him.  Helena had sobbed, feeling useless and all alone in the very moment that the light went out of Benjamin’s emerald green eyes, his jaw slack and his chest drained of all air.

            He had been her best friend and confidant.  And now Athelstan held that position.  It was for this reason, and his love of this family, and she could not and would not tell him the truth of Benjamin’s fate.

            Helena had to stop herself from crying once again at the memory, and gathered up all of the laundry to hang on the fence that surrounded the home, ringing out the bottom of her dress.  Gyda followed her actions, a shadow that had managed to be slightly taller than her. 

            “Do you ever think about going back to England?” Gyda questioned as they walked along the trail, baskets between their hips and arms.

            Helena had to think of her answer; no one had ever asked her that in all of her time here.  “I wouldn’t have anything to go back to.  So no, I don’t believe that I would want to.”

            Gyda tried to hide her smile and it looked like a smirk instead.  “Good because I like having you here.”

            “I’m happy to hear that because I believe that your parents do in fact own me.”

            Gyda’s blue eyes widened, completely forgetting that Helena was not actually part of her little family and instead owned.  “I’m sorry, I—“

            “Gyda you have nothing to apologize for,” Helena giggled before rubbing the young girl’s arm as a comfort. 

            They continued on, taking the damp clothes and spreading them along the wooden barrier to dry out.  Lagertha came out of the home with Ivar wrapped in a cloth, keeping his small body close to hers and her hands free.  She gently wiped his blond locks out of his eyes, a replica of his father’s, and kissed his soft forehead.

            “Lunch is ready when you both are finished,” she announced, turning to take a walk around the grounds so that she and the baby could get some sun.

            When Helena had first come to Scandinavia and the home of the Lothbrok family, she had found the couple to be intimidating, and yet she was drawn to them.  Ragnar was a kind of beautiful that could change with his temper.  His eyes were the bluest of blues and his hands rough with battle.  Lagertha, on the other hand, was blatantly beautiful and strong; she was everything that Helena wished that she could be.  Now she knew that Ragnar’s calmness was to be met with apprehension unless accompanied by a genuine smile, and that Lagertha was unsure of herself but would not let the outside world or her husband know of it. 

            It was these bits of knowledge that made Helena feel more comfortable living in this new world day by day.

            “I’m _starving!_ ” Gyda sighed, taking her basket inside and settling down to the plate waiting for her at her seat.

            Helena joined her, not realizing how hungry she truly was until the sweet berries touched her lips.  Chore loads increased when the men were away on raids, and Helena would stop only when she was told to for meals and to pass out on her mat for the night.  She never thought much of eating, her appetite gone with the worry she held instead.  It was moments such as these she was reminded that Athelstan would not appreciate her withering away to nothing while he was gone.

            “I didn’t mean to upset you earlier,” Gyda whispered, a piece of cheese hovering at her bowed lips.  “I just love Athelstan so much and wish him happiness.  I know that he loves you but that he fears you do not return his feelings.  I suppose it is because you still view him as a monk.”

            It felt as if bread was stuck in her throat and no matter the amount of swallowing, she couldn’t get it down.  Disappointment sat heavy in her stomach; not with Athelstan but instead with herself.  He loved her?  And with her going on about possibly marrying Arne…she had to be making him unhappy, though he would never tell her that.  Because he was Athelstan and his heart, no matter how hard he tried to be a part of these people, was truly pure.

            Helena recalled the moment she found him sleeping on the barn floor after she had first talked to Arne about a marriage pact.  When she had woken Athelstan, the dirt on his face was streaked and she thought it odd but did not dwell or ask questions.  Now when she thought back on the memory, she realized that the idea of her marrying someone else had made him cry.  How could she be so stupid?

            “I-I did not know,” she squeaked out, her voice weakened by the new information at hand.  “I’m sorry.”

            “Do you love Arne?”

            Helena considered the question, and the young girl asking it.  Gyda would soon be faced with the prospects of marriage.  She should be told the truth so that maybe one day she would know to follow her heart and not an idea.

            “No, I do not.”  Helena put the food that she held back down on her plate and took Gyda’s hands into her own.  “Beautiful girl, I want you to know that I find Arne to be a decent man and for that I considered him in marriage.  I was so desperate to have a family of my own, and I think that this idea of a husband and children took over my mind, and he was there asking for my hand.  But I think that this is why I have waited so long to give Arne an answer; I don’t think that I could ever love any man as much as I love Athelstan.”

            “Then why have you never said anything to him?!”

            “Oh Gyda!”  Helena laughed into her palms.  “Is there a boy that you fancy?”

            The girl’s face turned a pretty shade of pink and she bit her lower lip.  Helena giggled and brushed a strand of hair out of Gyda’s eyes.

            “How would you feel if I told you to go up to him and tell him exactly how you feel?”

            “No!” Gyda gasped.

            Helena let out a booming laugh, throwing her head back and causing her hair to cascade like a waterfall over her shoulders.  “And now you can understand how I feel.”

            Gyda looked embarrassed and as if she wanted to apologize but having a hard time finding the right words to do so.

            “It’s alright, I promise.  Just know that I’m thankful that you finally opened my eyes.”

            “I still think that you should let Athelstan know that you love him as well,” Gyda persisted, her fingers twitching on the table with excitement.

            “Didn’t we just discuss this!”

            “Discussed what?” Lagertha asked, entering the home while bouncing Ivar on her hip.  Bjorn followed behind her with two baskets of crops cradled in his arms, which he put down next to the table so that the women could clean them later.

            “That Athelstan loves Helena, and now I know that she feels the same.  I think she should let him know but she’s too scared to actually tell him,” Gyda explained.

            Helena’s embarrassment dripped down from her eyes to her shoulders and the entirety of her spine.  Her full body frame was depleted as if she had been betrayed by a loved one, and in a way she had been.  “Gyda!”

            Bjorn, who had just sat down, huffed and got up from his seat to take the leftovers from the platter outside to eat in peace.  The group of women was too focused on the upcoming task at hand to even question his actions, and for this he was grateful.

            “Yes, how can we get her to let him understand without having to actually say how she feels?” Lagertha mumbled under her breath, the creative wheels turning in her head.

            “Honestly?” Helena asked, bewildered with the lady of the household’s support.

            “How do you feel about touching Athelstan more?”

            “Excuse me?!”  She could feel her face and neck turn to flames.

            “Holding his hand, putting your arm through his, hugging him.  Your thoughts?”  Lagertha explained as if she was talking to someone not quite quick enough to understand.

            “Oh.  Well…I suppose that wouldn’t be bad.  Yes, I’m sure I would be fine with that.”

            “Right then.  That was simple enough,” Lagertha smirked at her daughter, handing Ivar over to Helena as she prepared to wash the crops that Bjorn had brought in.

 

            When she had seen his thin frame emerging from the ship, Helena’s heart skipped a beat.  He was alive, and he was here.  After a few weeks of contemplating what Lagertha had told her, she had dreamed of what would become of them; a fall wedding, as was custom of the land, a blissfully long life together, and farming a piece of their own land to survive on.  Her spirits soared at the thoughts of several children running around, all with his blue eyes and black curls.  Now with him just within feet of her, she could barely contain herself.

            Ragnar walked ahead, eager to kiss his wife and see his children once more.  But Helena was not concerned for the master of the home; she knew that he was fine and continually able to survive the raids.  No longer able to wait for Athelstan to finally get to the end of the dock, Helena ran to him, leaping at him, not caring if she caught him off guard; she needed to hold him and be sure that he was real. 

            His hair was soft beneath her fingers, and she repeatedly ran her hand over the crown.  His arms felt strong around her waist and she felt her body eager to mold itself against his.  The thought of such things made her nervous and self-conscious, but she turned her attention to actually speaking with him.

            Athelstan’s eyes looked haunted beneath the pretense of happiness that she knew he was putting up for her.  She asked how he was because it was what was expected of her, even though she knew he was going to keep things from her.  And then he spoke of his problem with Arne, and Helena’s anxiety rose.  She had actually forgotten about the other man until his name was mentioned, and now she didn’t know if she should continue with her plans for Athelstan.  How could she forget Arne; there was no plan as to how she would let him know that she now had no intention of marrying him after he had asked to have her answer once they returned.

            And then they were walking back home, the men ready to eat and rest up after quite a journey.  Athelstan threw a large bag that clicked and clanged over his shoulder, and Helena found that her arm interwoven with his felt as natural as breathing, and so she did not let go, and when he didn’t move away she found a permanent grin on her lips.  She admired his silhouette as they strolled along in the warm of the summer winds; his alabaster skin that he had during the winter now a warm caramel color, the sun bouncing off of his hair to create a rainbow of colors underneath the raven, his lips contoured into a content half-smile that was barely a different color from the skin surrounding it, and his facial hair was growing out of control from the trimmed beard that she was used to.

            As much as she had wanted to take time to sit around and listen to the stories of England (even if it was in the eyes of those who took it from her), Helena knew that there were chores that needed to be done before the sun set.  She grabbed Ragnar and Athelstan’s mud and blood caked clothes and went outside to get them soaked.

            It was a warm and familiar hand on her arm that stopped her.

            “Can we go for a walk?” he asked, his voice like fresh honey dripping from the combs.

            “Certainly.”  She tried to keep her actions amicable; was he going to reprimand her for being open with her gestures in front of others earlier?

            Helena felt her heart quicken at the possible reasons for their conversation running through her mind.  She could barely focus on the beauty of the evening that enveloped them, or that he was taking her to her favorite spot in the village.  As they reached the top of the hill, she felt his hand close around hers and a gentle pressure to pull her around so that they were facing one another.

            “I had a lot of time to think while I was gone, Helena.  And I thought about a great deal of things.  But I mostly thought of you.  I know that we haven’t had the most usual way of getting to know one another, and that you have had Arne come around on the possibility that he have you in marriage.”  He stopped momentarily, as if to gather his thoughts.  “Helena, I know that I was a monk during my time in England, but I haven’t been a practicing monk in some time.  You…you make me so happy, Helena, happier than I ever thought another human being could make me.  I have never felt like this with anyone else, and at the thought of losing you I became very angry.  Angry that God would send you here if not to be with me, angry at Arne for making the suggestion that you belonged with him, and angry with myself for not realizing it sooner that I think I could make you just as happy as you make me.”

            What was he doing?  All of these beautiful words pouring out of him and straight into her heart, as if guided by an invisible line.  Her nerves were a frazzled mess and she could barely breathe.  He moved to hold both of her hands within his.

            “What I’m trying to say is, if you’ll have me, I would love to spend the rest of my life with you.  Will you be my wife?”  

            That was it; her entire body shut down.  Had he just asked what she thought he had just asked?  Was she dreaming this?  She could remember feeling very tired because the baby was up through the night fussing often, so it was quite possible that she was dreaming.

            “I’m sorry.  I thought that maybe—“

            Helena’s body jumped to attention, seeing Athelstan in distress.  Even if she was dreaming, she was going to answer what her heart had always known was supposed to be.

            “Yes,” she whispered.  Her hands flew up to her mouth and sobs began shortly after.  “I would love nothing better than to be with you.”

            “Really?” he breathed, and she watched as his entire body relaxed.

            “It’s taken you long enough,” she joked, laughing at how ironic the statement was.

Athelstan joined in her joy before taking her face within his hands and kissing her mouth gently.  His lips were slightly chapped from the exposure to the sea, but as they shaped around hers she could feel the love and adoration he had for her.  Helena was sure in this moment that she had made the right decision to show her affection, and that she was finally going to get what her heart truly desired.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I feel like I was trying to play catch up so that’s why I bounced from one thing to the next. I hope you all were able to keep up with it! Have a great weekend :)


	9. White Blank Page

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So…guess that last chapter didn’t go over so well. Onwards and upwards! Strange to be writing this and no new episodes to watch. Going to have to re-watch the episodes to keep within an Athelstan frame of mind (especially once Graceland starts on USA—Aaron Tveit fans rejoice)! Hope you all enjoy this chapter more than the last one!

_Can you lie next to her And give her your heart_   
_As well as your body_   
_And can you lie next to her_   
_And confess your love_

_-Mumford and Sons_

 

            Athelstan clenched and unclenched his fingers, feeling both the rough and smooth parts of Helena’s hand within his as they walked along.  They had finished their chores for the day and decided to sneak away to the edge of the forest for some quality time together.  The sun was setting in the sky, the hues of pink and purple and blue a portrait that he wished that he could keep within his memory forever.  The warmth of the summer air created a new line of perspiration along Athelstan’s hairline, and his body hummed with the sounds of the cicadas and of how close he stood to Helena.

            _Will I ever get used to this feeling?_

            He hoped not.  As they trekked along, the brush whispered with the footsteps of the couple.  When they reached their destination, Helena laid a blanket down next to a welcoming tree and set a small dinner out for them to share.  Athelstan rested against the tree, closing his eyes and breathing in the scent of the wood and the dirt of the floor beneath them.

            He jolted at the feather light touch of Helena gently wiping his brow.  His lips turned up into a content smile and he leaned into her palm as she made her way down his face.

            “You have been working so hard lately,” she told him, her voice a whisper in the wind.  “I worry that we won’t make it to the wedding if you keep it up.”

            “I’ll be fine,” he insisted.  “Please don’t worry.”

            “Here, eat up.”  She handed him a plate of berries, cheese, bread and some chicken.

            Not realizing his hunger, Athelstan inhaled the food within minutes and looked at Helena’s plate with envy.  She began to giggle suddenly before turning to full fledge laughter, and he looked to her for an answer.

            “Would you like some of mine?” she asked, offering the rest of her food.

            Athelstan shook his head though his stomach said yes.  “You need to eat as well; you’ve been working hard, too.”

            “Eat, you stubborn man,” she smiled, putting a berry into his mouth with her own hand.

            He chewed the offering slowly, finding it to be even sweeter on his tongue strictly because it had been hers and not his, licking juices off of her fingers.  “Thank you.”

            She leaned forward and nudged his nose with her own, brushing her lips against his for a moment no long enough.  “You’re welcome.”

            As he looked into her eyes, hazy with wonder and want, Athelstan was proud of himself for standing his ground on his decision to marry Helena.  The idea that Ragnar thought that he would give up so easily still upset him, and so he tried not to dwell too long on the memory of the day that he told the Lothbrok family of he and Helena’s decision to join together as one.

 

_Every part of his being beamed as they walked back to the home that day.  Athelstan was sure that if someone were to look upon him they would see beams of light pouring out of small crevices of his body, particles of his soul dancing in joyous acclimation.  Helena looked every bit the joyous maiden who had found her prince, the happy ending to the long story of unwanted bad occasions._

_It was when Athelstan had opened the door for Helena and they stepped inside, holding hands and unable to hide their smiles that the celebration ended and the first stop on the journey of those to get in their way would begin._

_“Athelstan?  Helena?”_ _Ragnar had grunted, motioning with his head toward their hands._

_Athelstan had stepped forward, though still keeping a hold of Helena’s hand, ready to announce his good fortune.  “Ragnar, Lagertha, children: Helena has agreed to marry me.”_

_Gyda’s face broke into a beam brighter than the sun itself, while Bjorn looked bored and annoyed.  Lagertha seemed to be struggling between being happy for them and yet seeing the bad side of the situation as part master of the home.  As for Ragnar, he continued to stare at the couple, dumbfounded._

_“I’m sorry?” Ragnar whispered, slowing on his carving but not quite stopping._

_Athelstan felt as Helena moved behind him, as if to hide from Ragnar.  He looked upon the man he considered a friend, confused about the lack of enthusiasm.  He had known about Athelstan’s feelings for Helena, hadn’t he; made jokes of it previously?_

_“I thought that you would be happy for us; for me,” he said, clutching her hand tighter._

_Ragnar put his knife and the wooden piece he had been working on down and slowly rose from his seat.  He rubbed at his beard, a sarcastic smile growing._

_“Happy?  You thought that I would be happy that my one slave asks my other slave for her hand in marriage but does not bother to check with me first?”_

_“But,” Athelstan struggled, feeling his annoyance growing, “I thought that I was a free man?  We…we discussed this.”_

_“I still am the one who provides for you, am I not?  So in a sense you are still mine.”  Ragnar stood toe to toe with the former holy man.  “That still does not account for the fact that I actually paid for Helena, so she_ is _my slave.  I do not recall you asking for her hand.  But I_ do _remember a man by the name of Arne coming to see me about her a few months ago.”_

_Athelstan closed his eyes and tried to calm his breathing.  “Ragnar, I do not understand why you are—“_

_“Then let me explain!” Ragnar bellowed.  “You come home from your first raid and complain that it is not for you and my wife makes it known that you will no longer be going with me.  Then you decide that you will go behind my back and ask for Helena’s hand.  How do you expect to get the means to buy land?  To build and keep a home?  And what means will you have if you marry and have children?  How will you support each other, because I will not be taken advantage of!  I already have enough mouths to feed; I do not need to feed any that you so choose to bring in to this world.”_

_Athelstan felt the words sink in, and it was as if he was drowning in quick sand.  How could he have not thought of these things?  He had been a man in love on a mission, with dreams and hopes and aspirations, but he had failed to notice that all of these things had a price in which he would need to pay.  Tears threatened to rat him out, knocking on the door of his eyes._

_“I—I’m sorry.”_

_Helena grabbed onto the back of his shirt.  He wished that he could send strength to her through it, but he could barely stand himself._

_“What are you going to do about Arne?” Lagertha asked, her voice gentle in comparison to her husband’s._

_“I was going to tell him the truth; that I haven’t given him an answer yet because deep down I knew that I was waiting for Athelstan,” Helena answered, her body trembling out of fear for the reaction that she would receive._

_“And do you think that would have been the end of things?” Ragnar questioned, dubious._

_Athelstan felt his instincts take over, and he stood up straighter and with purpose.  “I would willingly fight him for her.”_

_“You dead would be doing Helena no good, let alone yourself.”_

_“I would do anything possible to keep her.”  Athelstan paused, not believing what he was about to say.  “Even if that meant raiding with you continually during the summers.”_

_Both Helena and Gyda gasped, the Viking couple looked stunned, and Bjorn looked increasingly happier by the second.  Athelstan felt sick at the memories once more, but knew that Ragnar had a point and that he had no trades that were worth anything in this land.  If he was going to prove that Helena was his future, he had to do the thing he most despised._

_“Athelstan, no!” Helena cried, looking near tears herself._

_He held her face in his hands and gave a comforting smile.  “I love you, and I would do anything for you.  I managed last time, and it’s not as if it will be all year round.”_

_“It’s a start,” Ragnar spoke, focusing the attention back on to him.  “Anything that you get while we are on raid will be given to me as payment for Helena and your wedding.”_

_Athelstan hated the sound of those words,_ payment for Helena _, but he supposed that since she was a slave he had to do something in order to convince Ragnar to allow them to marry._

_“That still leaves Arne and the matter of a place to stay,” Lagertha stated._

_“I will take care of Arne,” Ragnar offered.  “And you can buy land from me.  There is plenty on the outer rim in which you can build a home and still have privacy.  You both can continue to help with the fields.  When we are home, beginning tomorrow, Athelstan and I will start on building the home.  Everyone in agreement?”_

_“I gave you what you wanted to hear, and now you’ve given me what I wanted to hear.  I believe that we’re in good standing on this.  Thank you, Ragnar Lothbrok.”_

_Ragnar and Athelstan shook hands, and Gyda was finally able to squeal to and hug Helena as much as she wanted.  Lagertha did not show as much enthusiasm but still gave her congratulations and a knowing smile to Athelstan._

            “Why do you love me?”

            Athelstan turned to Helena, squinting from the light of the setting sun in his eyes, and gently played with the loose strands of her hair.

            “Why wouldn’t I?”

            Helena huffed, pushing his hand away.  “I wish to know why you would give up on your stance against raiding for me.  I don’t want to go into this marriage hating myself for causing you pain.”

            Athelstan straightened up and sat to face her.  “Don’t you dare do that to yourself, Helena.  I love you because you because you respect others, you have a kind heart, but you also speak up for those who are too afraid to do it themselves.”  He stood and pulled her up with him.  Leading them over to the edge of the forest where they could look upon the changing colors of the sky as well as the moving waters below, he stood behind Helena and wrapped his arms around her in a protective stance.  “When you first came here, you respected me and what I once was with no hesitation.  I wasn’t used to that anymore; you were a breath of fresh air.  I loved watching you learn the language and customs of these people because I was able to see your eagerness and your frustrations without hesitation on your part.  You help without asking because you are kind and generous and your greatest pleasure in life is to help those around you.  And on several occasions I have witnessed as you have been the voice of your former neighbors, of Gyda, and of me.  You are very brave, Helena, and you don’t even recognize that fact because you are humble above all else.

            “One day shortly after you had gotten here, when you came down to wash linens and I was finishing up bathing, you talked of the beauty of this new land and how it was that scenery and God that helped you get through your ordeal with Rollo.  Those words on your lips and the look of adoration on your face…I had no choice but to love you.

            “Our paths were fated, and I thank God for that every day.  I could not be happier than to face a long future with you, even if that means to raid during the summers so that I can support you and our children.”

            Athelstan felt as Helena’s body shook but he could not determine if it was from laughter or if she was crying. 

            “Helena?”

            She turned in his arms, her green eyes glistening and her bottom lips red from her biting away the tears.  Holding him close, she whispered into his ear, “I cannot believe that I thank the Lord daily that you decided to let go of being a monk.”

            Athelstan burst into laughter at her honesty and pulled her in for a kiss, their tongues dancing in a familiarity all of their own.  He rested his forehead against hers in a comfort that they had only recently gotten to know but one that felt as if it had existed for thousands of years.  They stayed there for several minutes, enjoying the serenity of the moment.

 

            “Why do villagers from all over come to Ragnar as if he is their leader?” Helena questioned as they walked along, dusk settling over the hills and the moon becoming clearer.  “I understand the men in the area looking to him for advice because he is their friend, but even people from Kattegat walk here just to converse with him.”

            “Lagertha or the children have never mentioned anything in passing?”

            “Not that I can recall.”

            Athelstan cleared his throat.  “A few years ago, Ragnar defeated the Earl in battle and in turn earned the title Earl himself.  We lived in Kattegat for the time and he was quite good in the position, as was Lagertha when he was on raid.  But at one point, a plague came through and Gyda and I almost died from it.  Much of the village was wiped out and mass burnings were held.  When Ragnar came back, he tried to make sacrifices to the gods in order to repent for any ill dealings he may have done towards them unknowingly. 

“It was when Rollo attempted to assassinate him,” Helena gasped, “that Ragnar decided to go to the people and propose that we become more of an equal community so that there were no longer jealousy issues.  They all agreed and, in fact, other villages proposed the same idea as word reached them.  Scandinavia is under one king, Horik, and he is in close contact with every village.  Otherwise, we hold meetings when they are needed and must come to an agreement as one on matters at hand.”

“I don’t believe that I have ever heard of meetings taking place.”

“That’s because you see them come to Ragnar instead,” Athelstan chuckled.  “We have not had much disagreement within the village since the change.”

“But they still come to Ragnar?”

“Yes.  He was a good leader even before he was entitled.  He was the first man to travel to the West, and we have benefited from it since then.  Ragnar is not one to be heedless; he thinks before he leaps and tries to find out as much as possible before deciding.  Well, in most instances.”

“Do you think that he has _our_ best interest at heart?” she asked, almost pleading.

Athelstan thought of how to answer, not wanting to tell her the wrong thing.  “Ragnar was very upset at first, yes, but you heard his offers.  I do not think him unreasonable in turn of what we ask of him.  He had valid points and so did we.  That is why he is letting us live on the land and helping me build our home.  I think him to be knowledgeable and wanting to help us as best as he can.”

She smiled up at him.  “If you trust him, then so do I.”

He kissed the top of her head and wrapped an arm around her waist.  “I have to.  He took us both in and has treated us as family for the most part.  And if he does anything against you, then I will just have to tell his enemies his faults.”

            “Oh, Athelstan,” Helena giggled, not realizing that he was being very much serious.

 

            “There you two are,” Lagertha sighed, bouncing Ivar on her hip.  Her eyes were tired but her worry was evident all over her body.

            “What is wrong?” Athelstan asked, putting the basket and blanket down and walking over to her.  Helena took Ivar and cuddled him closely.

            “Ragnar just got word from Arne.  He wants to hold a meeting for the village to decide what to do about you two marrying.  He thinks himself entitled to Helena’s hand and intends to gain her back, with or without her permission.”

            Athelstan sat down on the table bench, head in his hands and feeling defeated.  He was not sure as to how the people would take this, Arne the villager and Athelstan the former slave and foreign priest, both fighting over the same woman.  The outcome could go either way.

            “The meeting will be held tomorrow so that it is decided before the next raid,” Lagertha continued, putting a hand on his shoulder.

            “So much for not having had much conflict within the village since the change over,” Helena huffed.

            Oh how he wished she were wrong.


	10. Big Parade

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I tried to write this up really fast yesterday so that I can just focus on my birthday today (24 sounds so much better than 23 to me, and let’s hope that’s true!), but I had LOTS to do and then my dad decided on some random road trip to nowhere so I finished it late and needed to edit this morning. So I hope it turned out well and that you all enjoy it (those of you that are still reading it??) You know what would make a REALLY awesome present for me? Reviews! Even just the smallest thing such as “good chapter” or “I liked ___ but didn’t care for ___” lol Please? :)

_Yea this is my confession, I'm leaving I can't be a priest anymore_

_There he goes, the man of faith_   
_Left the church for a fiancé_   
_Let him love, the man of faith_

_-The Lumineers_

 

            The Lothbroks’ gathered up some belongings needed for the journey into Kattegat, more so for Ivar than anyone else.  Athelstan stood back and observed as Helena rung her hands to the point of redness.  While he was running nervous as well, he tried to keep it to himself so as not to upset the others but Helena was one of those people that kept her emotions on her sleeve.  He walked over to her and gently wrapped his own hands around hers.  She instantly relaxed from his touch but looked as if she was near tears.

            “Everything will be fine,” he whispered to her, rubbing circles on her wrists with his thumbs.  He was not so sure of his own words but would not let himself panic her even more.

            “You don’t know that,” she replied, biting her lower lip.  “What if they take his side just because he’s one of them?  They don’t care about our feelings or our stance on things; we’re not natives.”

            “You’ll make them see,” Lagertha interjected, binding Ivar close to her chest.

            “Fear is no way to plead your case, Helena,” added Ragnar.  He picked up the bound belongings and gave them to Athelstan to carry.  “Arne will be asked to give his side for the villagers to hear, and then Athelstan will give yours.  I will allow time for people to choose their side and then we will vote.”

            “What if they pick Arne, though?  I can’t…”

            “We’ll figure things out when or if the time comes,” Athelstan said with finality and kissed her forehead.

            Ragnar led the family out of the home and towards Kattegat.  Athelstan would normally feel excited to go back to main town and catch up with old friends but at the moment he felt as if the weather was mocking them, for which he was not grateful.  The sun was bright in the clearest of skies that he had seen in quite some time, the greenness that surrounding the road that they walked seemed to be reaching out for them (‘ _Join us…ignore your problems and fall amongst us…we will keep you from ill will and all that threatens you…’_ ), and the light breeze that rolled over him like the gentlest of waves beckoned Athelstan to take Helena and run in the other direction.

            Ivar’s cooing distracted him for a moment; the babe’s fascination with the world around him made Athelstan smile, as well as his parents.  Ragnar rubbed the little one’s tuffs of white blond hair while Lagertha returned the smiles and coos, kissing the tip of his little nose.  But as soon as the smile came, it left Athelstan’s face.  How he wished that this scene before him could have been him and Helena, the babe in her arms one with brown curls and green eyes.  How could God have let this happen?

            “You’re already giving up,” spoke Gyda.  She was facing Athelstan as he watched Ivar, and her expression was that of anger.  “I don’t believe that you will be voted against, and neither should you.  _Either_ of you.”

            Helena grabbed onto Athelstan’s arm, rested her head on his shoulder.

            “Don’t you believe in your god?” Bjorn asked, almost spitting the words at them.  “Well even if you don’t, we can’t help but see that our gods have put this into motion.  They will not let Arne win today.  You cannot let the people see you like this, even if you feel otherwise.  You look weak.”

            “Bjorn?” Gyda questioned, confused by his words.  He was never a supporter of the couple, and the statement was quite the surprise.

            The teenager rolled his eyes.  “If anyone is to marry Helena, it is better that the priest does so than anyone else.  He has proven himself to be one of us and you would be stupid to not see the way that they look at each other.  It is if they are a younger version of our mother and father.”

            Athelstan felt the vibrations of Helena’s giggles up his arm and shoot towards his heart, and he could not help but to join her.  Gyda wrapped her arms around her older brother, joyous that he had come to his senses even if he was unhappy about it.  Bjorn scowled down at her before ripping himself away.

            “You’re mad, woman.”

            “Be nice to your sister, Bjorn.  You never know when you may need her,” Ragnar said as the adults laughed at them.

            Kattegat was bustling with its inhabitants and their animals, trading and selling for a bit of living.  There were also villagers lining up to get into the old home of the Earl.  The house had been redone to hold the town’s meetings and other business that needed attended to.  Athelstan squeezed Helena’s hand as they made their way up the stairs to the door to reassure that, no matter what happened, he had her best interests at heart.  She squeezed back and leaned slightly more into his side.

            Arne stood at the very start of the line, and sized up both Ragnar and Athelstan as they drew near.  His eyes darkened at the sight of Helena leaning on Athelstan, and she put a breath of distance between them.

            “Arne, you don’t have to do this,” she pleaded, placing a hand on his arm.

            The man looked down at the gesture but did not withdraw.  “You _promised_ yourself to me, Helena.  I cannot just let this go.”

            “I did nothing of the sort!” she replied, growing indignant.  “I told you that I would get to know you and decide from there.  I cannot help that I love Athelstan.  I wish you no ill will, and in fact I do hope that you find love.  I’m just not that woman.”

            “We will see,” he answered, pulling away from her.

            “Come,” Ragnar gently ordered, leading the family inside and thus allowing the villagers to follow in and settle before the hearing proceeded.

            There was a long table in front of the fire that faced the group of peers that would vote.  Arne took a seat on one side of Ragnar while Athelstan took to the other.  Athelstan could feel his throat swelling with fear, and everything that he had practiced saying was erased from his mind.  He looked to his left where his family sat; Lagertha rocking a sleepy Ivar, Gyda waving to friends that were across the way, Bjorn sharpening his knife with a rock he had found along the way, and Helena who gave him a weak but supportive smile, in which he returned.

            As the people settled in, Athelstan spotted Rollo and his wife, Siggy, enter and take their seats to the right of Arne, a clear declaration of who they chose in the situation.  He could hear as Ragnar let out a low growl, obviously angered by his brother’s decision and yet at no will to tell him what to do.

            Ragnar stood and announced the beginning of the meeting and the crowd quieted, anticipating what was about to happen.  They had all heard rumors of Ragnar Lothbrok’s slaves but the interest in hearing what was actually to be said had brought them here.  Ragnar sat back down and glared at those few that continued to speak until they got the point.

            “Good day to all.  We have been brought together as per request of Arne, son of Grani, regarding the status of his engagement to Helena, slave of Ragnar Lothbrok.  We will have Arne speak on his behalf, as well as Athelstan, former slave of Ragnar, who claims to be betrothed to Helena.  Arne.”

            Ragnar sat as his fellow Viking stood to speak.  Arne cleared his throat and tugged and the bottom of his shirt as if to make himself more presentable.

            “I had seen Helena at a gathering in the early winter months as she is the slave of Ragnar, as was just stated.  I had interest in marrying her, so during the late winter rest I went to Ragnar and asked for her.  He said that she was to make the decision, as that is how he felt would only be fair to her.  We met and talked, and she said that she would let me know of her decision shortly.  I waited for several months only to find that…Athelstan had _bewitched_ her and convinced her that she was in love with him.  I had to hear of their betrothal through others even though Helena had promised me that she would give me an answer when we had returned from raiding only a few days ago.

            “I ask that you all see that Helena is, in fact, due to marry me and not that _priest_.”

            Arne sat down with a thud and crossed his arms, giving a look as if to dare the group to vote against him. 

            Athelstan’s disgust and anger with the man sitting down the table from him gave him the strength that he needed to plead his and Helena’s case.  He stood slowly, also taking the time to clear his throat but making the move not to smooth his tunic but instead to give a kind smile to the people before him.

            “Good morning all.  I hope you find this day well.  Arne’s story is that of truth to a certain extent.  Yes, he did show an interest in Helena and asked for her, waiting patiently for her answer.  But I did not _bewitch_ her as he has so ignorantly claimed.

            “Helena came to the Lothbrok home, a victim of abuse from Ragnar’s brother.  We cared for her, and they took it upon themselves to take her on as theirs.  Over the past year Helena and I have worked side by side and I was the one who taught her the ways of this land and of its great people.  I tried as hard as I could to keep my feelings from her because I knew of her possible betrothal to Arne. 

            “It was when we came back from raiding that her returned feelings towards me became apparent, and I would not want her unhappiness and, in my selfishness, my own unhappiness.  Helena agreed to marry me on her own accord out of a mutual love for one another.  I hope that you all can see that we belong together, and will allow us to continue our plans to marry in the fall.  Thank you.”

            As Athelstan took his seat, he felt the weight lift off of his shoulders and a dizziness from it.  He prayed that what he had said was enough to convince these people to side with him so that they could move on from this nightmare.

            Ragnar stood once more.  “Now that we have heard from both parties, I will allow anyone who knows personally of the situation to speak briefly for either side.  Is there anyone who would like to do so?”

            Rollo stood with a slow arrogance that was typical of him.  “I would like to speak.”

            “I don’t know that it would be best, brother,” Ragnar said, biting out the words.

            “I don’t care.”  He turned to face the crowd.  “I plead the case of Arne, son of Grani.  As he stated, he had asked for Helena’s hand first and allowed her adequate time in which to give him an answer.  She went behind his back and agreed to marry a former _holy man,_ and didn’t have the courtesy to let Arne know that she was not interested in marrying him!  And now her betrothed wants you to just let that go and allow them to marry as if no atrocities have occurred?  I beg you, dear people, remember this when you are deciding.”

            Ragnar sighed and rubbed at his forehead.  Athelstan saw his feelings of defeat evident in the family before turning his attention to the group in front of him, buzzing with ideas as to how they should vote.

            A young woman stood up, someone that Athelstan knew in passing but of no interest to the case.  His blood turned cold at the idea of one more person in favor of Arne; they would have no chance at all then, even if there was a glimmer of hope after the debacle from Rollo.

            “Could we please hear Helena’s take on all of this?” the woman asked, her voice strong and clear above all others.

            The mumbling came to a halt and all eyes looked upon slave woman, who sat worried to tears in the corner.  She looked surprised to see someone ask for her opinion and straightened her spine, waiting to hear Ragnar’s answer.

            “Of course.  Helena?” Ragnar called, motioning her to stand next to Athelstan.

            She walked over to him and Athelstan felt calmer with her near.  “Hello,” she started, her voice growing stronger with each word spoken.  “Thank you for asking me to tell you my side in all of this.

            “I was taken in by the Lothbrok’s after Ragnar’s brother, Rollo, raped and beat me nearly to death.  Athelstan, as he has said, was the one to teach me the language and ways of this land.  Arne is…normally…kind and would make a great husband to any woman.  But it was already at the point of his proposal that I found my feelings for Athelstan changing, though I did not fully recognize it at the time.

            “I considered Arne’s proposal because I wished to be a wife and mother, and because I knew Athelstan’s former life in England meant that he could not have relations with a woman.  I contemplated for so long because I could not bring myself to finalize my life when, in the back of my mind, I knew that Athelstan loved me and I him.  He has since denounced his monkhood, and so therefore we are free to marry.  That is, if you all agree that we should do so.

            “When Athelstan proposed, I was happier than I had ever been in my life.  I had offered to tell Arne myself that I was not going to marry him, but Ragnar said that he would do it for me.  I am sorry that Arne has been hurt in the process for it was not my intent, but I am not sorry for what I feel for Athelstan. 

            “Thank you for hearing our story.  I trust you will all make the right decision.”

            Helena ran a hand through Athelstan’s hair, granting him a smile before sitting back down with the family.  The talk started up once more, this time louder and clearer.  Neighbor seemed pitted against neighbor, man against woman.

            “Why should I care that she was raped and beaten?  She’s a slave!  That is what we do,” argued an older man to his wife.

            “We do not beat someone _nearly to death_ , even if they are a slave!” shouted a young woman from across the way.

            “Enough!” shouted Ragnar, bringing everyone back into focus.  “We will vote now that you have heard everything and before you can change each other’s minds.”

            Athelstan decided not to watch as the voting took place; his heart already wanted to give out from the stress and over excitement.  Instead, he locked eyes with Helena, mouthing the words ‘I love you’ several times over.

            “Everyone close your eyes.  Now, those in favor of Helena marrying Arne please raise your hand.”

            A count was to be taken by several men at once, those trusted to keep an unbiased opinion on the matters at hand.  Once Ragnar was given the nods of a total by all men, he continued on.

            “All those in favor of Helena marrying Athelstan, please raise your hand.”

            Again, the counting and nodding took place.  Athelstan still looked away from the activity in front of him as the men walked up to Ragnar and whispered their totals to him.

            “All right.  As confirmed by all five of our men, you have closely but rightfully decreed that Helena is to marry… _Athelstan_ come this fall.  Thank you for your contributions to this village and your fellow people.”

            Athelstan sat in disbelief; he had to be dreaming this.  Certainly as kind as he had been to them all during his time in Kattegat, they had to have voted for Arne over him.  His revere was broken by Helena tackling him in his chair and pressing kisses all over his face.

            “I love you,” she pressed into his lips.  He returned the action, standing up and lifting her, spinning her around.

            “I love you,” he said, continuing to press kisses onto her cheeks and neck.  “Is this real?”

            Helena chuckled and wiped hair out of his eyes.  “Yes, this is real.  God has answered our prayers and we can finally be together without worrying.  Our trial is over.”

            Athelstan closed his eyes, relief washing over him.  “I wish he would stop giving me trials; this is getting old.”

            Helena laughed boldly and seared his lips with another kiss.


	11. Bartholomew

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I have to start off with apologizing to each and every one of you loyal readers. It was never my intention to wait a month in order to post a new chapter! But life got in the way, my muse left me, and interests in other areas to be productive this summer had taken over. It was when I started to get notices about more reviews, follows, and favorites that I realized it had been so long (and that people were still interested)! I’m profusely sorry…please don’t throw rotten food at me!   
>  As for your various reviews on the last chapter, you all entertain me so much! I have you all worrying about Arne now…some sort of retaliation? Hehe Listen, there is conflict in normal life but there are also good moments too! Athelstan and Helena (I need to make a ship name for them) will have their good moments for a time before life naturally kicks in. And believe me when I tell you, in future chapters I will SHOCK you. You will NOT see this coming. Though someone did allude to a portion in the works in a review once before! Please stick with me, and thanks for all your support so far!!

_Oh my God_

_Please help me, knee deep in the river tryin’ to get clean_

_He says wash your hands, get out the stains_

_But you best believe, boy, there’s hell to pay_

_-The Silent Comedy_

 

            Athelstan wiped his brow as the sweat from his exertion trickled down, tickling the skin beneath it.  He was winded from driving the nails into the wood, creating a home for him and Helena once they were married in just a short amount of time.  Looking to his left, he spotted Ragnar making his way back from a break for lunch at the main house.  His friend seemed to be carrying a bundle in his arms and so Athelstan got down from his perch on the roof to help him out.

            “More supplies?  I’m sure we’ll finish before the next raid at this rate.  And I may die in the process as well,” Athelstan greeted him, joking and yet being serious somewhere in the back of his mind.

            “No, it’s lunch for the two of us.  Lagertha insisted that I bring it here instead of us wasting time with the back and forth.”  Ragnar handed the meats over to Athelstan while he held onto the cheese and ale.  “And don’t be ridiculous; of course you’re not going to die from building a house.  That would be a stupid way to die, and then you would not get into Valhalla.”

            Athelstan just smirked and shook his brown curls at the idea of entering the Heaven equivalent in the Norse’s beliefs.  He handed a leg over to Ragnar before taking his own.  The meat was course and chewy between his teeth, and he was thankful for its fill of his belly.  As the cheese and ale followed, Athelstan welcomed the difference from the dry wooden taste that had previously taken over his taste buds.  It would be quite the bother to have to start back up the work again but the house needed to be finished before the two men left in just a week’s time.

            “I suppose we’re back to this again,” Ragnar spoke, having been silent during his meal, looking up at the roof that was half way done.

            “Yes I suppose.”

            Ragnar teasingly shoved Athelstan and chuckled, showing off his usual cheeky smile.  “Do you want to get married or not, priest?”

            “Somehow that phrase sounds wrong.  You’ll have to start calling me something else soon.”

            “I don’t think so.  You came to us as a priest, and so a priest you will always be in my eyes.  You’ll have to get used to it.”

            Shaking his head once more at his friend, Athelstan stood from his spot in the tall grass and went back to his place on the roof, wanting to be done with the damned thing and get back to Helena.

 

            “It’s finished,” he whispered into her ear as he hugged her good-bye.  The feeling of Helena in his arms was still a new feeling, and yet Athelstan couldn’t reason that he had managed without it for so long.

            “What?”

            Athelstan pulled away and looked down to her.  “The house.  We finished it before dinner yesterday but I wanted to keep it a surprise.  You can decorate it however you wish with the sparse things that we have,” she giggled at his joke, “and then when I get back I’ll be able to marry you and take you there to live.  How does that sound?”

            “That sounds like a lot of work, actually.”

            Athelstan laughed before placing a firm kiss on her delicate lips, moving over them again and again, nibbling on her lower lip before attempting to deepen it when she pushed him away.

            “What’s wrong?”

            “You need to leave and go make us some money.  There will be plenty of time for that once you’re home,” Helena smirked, leading him over to the dock.

            “I look forward to it,” he replied, grabbing her waist and pulling her in for another kiss, this one chaste compared to the last.

            “Who are you and what have you done with my kind, sweet, virginal betrothed?” she called after him as he walked towards the ship, already full of Viking men ready for the journey ahead.

            Athelstan turned around, now walking backwards, and blew her a kiss with a grin to accompany it.  He held the place at his chest where his heart beat steady and strong as she blew her own kiss back.  Turning around to face correctly, Athelstan greeted some of the local men and took his place on the ship, located just in front of the newest recruit.

            “Are you ready for your first raid, Bjorn?” he asked, putting his bag down next to him.

            “I was born to do this,” the younger man answered, practically bouncing on his seat, hands gripping around the handle of what would be his oar for the trip.

            “I truly believe that you were.  Just keep your head down and focus on the task at hand.  Listen, though, to your leader.  Your father only has your best interest at heart, even if he can be quite the pain.”

            Bjorn chuckled in complete understand of what Athelstan was talking about.  Athelstan watched as the boy turned his attention back to the docks and waved to his family as the ship cast off.  He, too, decided to send a final wave to Helena who stood by Gyda as Lagertha stood closer to the ship, rocking Ivar in her arms.  She waved back, this time a little more reserved and he recognized it as worry.  He tried to give her a reassuring smile as Ragnar gave the order to pick up their oars and begin to row.  Helena disappeared shortly after, a small speck on the horizon.

 

            Athelstan watched as Bjorn struggled to walk out of the boat and onto the English shores.  So many days at sea seemed to have given the boy his sea legs but now when he needed to walk on dry land, his limbs did not want to cooperate.  He patted Bjorn on the back and guided him to the shore, remembering the first time that he had to make the adjustment.

            “I think I’m okay now,” Bjorn mumbled, shrugging off the other man’s hand.  Athelstan smiled at the antics, appreciating that he could always count on the grumpiness to set in at some point.  It was nice to have the familiarity of home during something as vulgar as a raiding.

            The group of men, accompanied by a handful of women, made their way towards the nearest village.  Athelstan observed the scenic view around them, approving the beauty of the English countryside.  While Scandinavia had its own beauty to behold, he found himself missing some aspects of England, such as the song of the local birds or the smell of the native trees.  The ground crackled and crunched beneath their feet, the snaps of twigs being avoided as much as possible; it could scare the birds, who would alert the villagers that there was something or someone coming.  That would completely foil their plans, and they couldn’t have that happen.

            “We’ll set up camp here for the evening,” ordered Ragnar as the day turned to dusk.  The pink hues in the sky made it known that soon they would be comforted by the stars and moon and to rest as much as they could.  “Start the fires and we’ll eat before settling in for the night.”

            The group set to work, Bjorn sticking close to Athelstan’s side.  He made no mention of it to the boy but knew that it was due to nervousness, and who could blame him?  First raids were incredibly nerve wracking, and even now Athelstan could feel his own heart begin to beat faster whenever he thought of what awaited them.

            Food felt like a warm blanket to the Vikings as they ate, becoming content and sleepy.  Lying down, Athelstan let his mind wonder to Helena and the girls back home, hoping that they were safe and happy.  And as he dozed off he dreamt of the wedding and the life that waited for him after this.

            Morning came all too soon for the former monk, and his body was acting in retaliation as well as his mind, not wanting to move in any form of quickness.  He pushed himself to get up and pack his things, checking to see if Bjorn had remembered all of his belongings as well.  The boy let off a nervous jitteriness, literally on his toes at all moments as he waited for the rest of the group to move on.

            “Bjorn, you need to focus.  Breathe.  And please stop moving around so much, you’ll give us away,” Ragnar said, using his commanding voice as he held his son’s shoulders and looked him in the eyes.  “You will help me look after him?”

            Athelstan nodded his understanding.  This was his fourth raid of the summer, and while he was no expert at this point, he had less of a nervous tick and a keener eye than Bjorn.  He already felt as if he was an older brother or confidant to the boy, and so keeping an eye on him during a key time in his life was natural.

            “Are you ready?  Remember to look all around you, keep quiet and always know something about your surroundings just in case anything happens.”

            “I know.  Mother went over everything before we left, and I’ve been told time and time again.  I probably know even better than you do!”

            “We will see.  But please, be careful Bjorn.  I don’t want to have to go home to an angry Lagertha.”

            Bjorn laughed but then remembered to muffle it.  The group began to move and so the duo followed suit.  The sun was set high in the sky by the time they came across their raiding spot.  A new place, and yet the same story once again: not a clue of what was coming their way, barely any means in which to save themselves, many treasures to be taken, and all on a Sunday as they kneel praying to the Lord.  Athelstan fought the bile that rose up in his chest.

            Forming at the gate that was meant to protect the village from the harsh winters and drenching summers, the Vikings gripped their swords and shields, grown men resembling what Bjorn looked like earlier that day.  Athelstan recognized the hunger in their eyes; this was the only life and way they knew how to survive.  His ideas on raiding had become torn since his second time around, understanding how they could be beneficial to the survival of the people.  But he still could not understand the bloodshed, and feared that no matter how many times he partook in the ritual, he would never understand it.

            Ragnar, knowing that the natives were in church, pushed open the gate with ease, letting his men and women inside.  He and Rollo headed straight for the church with some of their taller but thinner men ( _“More intimidating so I can send the stronger ones to the homes to carry the heavy items with ease,” Ragnar had explained once before_ ) while the others fanned out, breaking down the doors and going inside with their bags to be filled.  Athelstan guided Bjorn to one of the homes and took him inside to show him how he did things.

            “Why does my father send you to raid instead of the church?”

            Athelstan turned to watch as he picked up trinkets here and there, adding them to his bag.  “Because I can speak the language and have talked my way out of bad situations.”

            “But you’re not very strong to carry the bag.”

            “True.  Your father divides it up and carries the other half.”

            “So you work together in a way.”  Bjorn nodded his approval, picking up more things and inspecting others before chucking them over his shoulders.

            Screams came from the church, causing the two to look towards the noise.  Athelstan sighed and turned back to his task, looking at Bjorn out of the corner of his eye.  The boy’s face showed signs of both fear and interest.

            “Floki likes to…show off to the villagers.  Due to customs, wine is viewed as holy when in a church.  He likes to spit it out all over them.  That’s where the screams come from.”

            Blue eyes widened before a snort made its way out, followed by quite loud laughter.  Athelstan could not follow suit, disgusted with Floki as much as the others in that church.  He quickened his pace, gathering what would get him and Helena through the winter months of stagnation.

            “Finish up, Bjorn,” he said, stuffing the treasures in his bag harder than he needed to.

            Not hearing much movement from his tag along, Athelstan turned around to see where the boy had managed to wonder off to.  Instead he found a sword at Bjorn’s throat as well as a hand across his mouth, the usually mischievous eyes now filled with panic.  Athelstan’s heart skipped a few beats before speeding up, his protective instincts kicking in.

            “Put the sword down and back away from him,” he ordered in his former tongue, pulling out his own sword from its sheath on his left hip.  He slowly walked towards the man, apparently the homeowner who had decided to come out of hiding, looking just as frightened as his captured.

            The man gripped harder around Bjorn’s mouth and arms, digging the sword deeper into the flesh of the neck.  Bjorn let out as much of a squeak that he could, not managing the muffled scream that he was aiming for.  “Put my things down and I won’t have to hurt him.”

            “Give me the boy and I’ll move on.”

            “You have no right to my things!”

            Athelstan nodded his head slowly, recognizing the anger that he felt during Lindisfarne.  “You are correct; we do not have the rights to your things.  But you do not have the right to take this boy’s life over a few little trinkets here and there.  These are replaceable; he is not.”

            “My wife and I have worked hard in order to have these belongings!  You have done nothing to deserve them.  Give me them.  NOW!”  The man’s face turned red as his words got louder and bolder.

            Athelstan sent a look to Bjorn to reassure him that he had everything under control, but the tighter and tighter the man drew the sword to Bjorn’s neck, the harder it became for him to believe Athelstan.

            “How about we do this at the same time?” Athelstan bargained, not trusting the man with Bjorn’s life.  “I’ll count to three and you can toss the boy to me and I’ll give you the bag.”

            The man hesitated before nodding his agreement. 

            “One.  Two.” 

Athelstan paused for just a moment, which was all the other man needed to distrust his words.  Athelstan watched as he began to slide the sword across Bjorn’s supple flesh, and he anticipated the start of the trickle of blood.  He dashed forward, dropping the bag all together and lunged for the man.  Due to the confusion, Bjorn was able to slip out of the loosened grasp of his capturer, and out of the way of Athelstan’s oncoming sword.

It was never his intention for what happened next.  Athelstan swung at the man as a means to scare him off until he and Bjorn were able to get away and become surrounded by a larger group of men.  But the man swung back and went to slice Athelstan’s abdomen.  Jumping back, he retaliated, his mind so focused on saving Bjorn and himself from an untimely and unwanted death that he didn’t even realize what that would mean doing.

As the man readied his stance, Athelstan lunged forward with everything that he had.  The feeling of one’s hand on a sword as it slices through the clothes, the flesh, muscle, and finally to the insides is unlike anything that you could imagine unless you have done so.  And as Athelstan pulled the sword out of the belly of the other man, he felt no regrets, only calmness and relief that Bjorn was safe.

The man fell to the floor on his knees, eyes wide and spilling his fresh blood on the ground.   Athelstan stepped back to keep it from staining his shoes and picked up the bag he had dropped earlier.

“Let’s go,” he ordered Bjorn, putting a hand on the boy’s shoulder and guided him out towards the church to wait for the others.

“What did you just do?” Bjorn asked, his voice full of admiration and yet fear as well.

“I saved our lives.  Here, divide this between us so that the load is even.”

Ragnar walked up to the duo, having had spotted them while marking the progress of his men.  “Why do you look as if you have seen a ghost, Bjorn?”

Bjorn stopped staring at Athelstan enough to acknowledge his father.  “Athelstan _killed_ a man.”

Ragnar’s face showed no change in expression, no surprise or concern even though he knew full well that this was the first time his friend had ever had to do so.  “Priest?  Is this true?”

“He was about to kill Bjorn.  I was merely protecting my family.”

Ragnar considered the words before turning his full attention to his eldest son.  He noted the slight cut on the boy’s neck that was accompanied by drying blood.  Clamping a hand down on his broadening shoulders, he said to Bjorn, “You need to be more careful of your surroundings.  You and I both know that killing is not in Athelstan’s nature.  But we are grateful that he made that sacrifice, are we not?”

Bjorn agreed, thanking the monk that he formerly cursed in his younger years for his breaths of life in this moment.  Athelstan put a reassuring arm around him, wondering why he didn’t feel worse about what just occurred but taking it as a sign that it was meant to be.

 

“Are you alright?” Helena whispered into his ear as she held him close.  They had just returned from their trip West and she always greeted him with a hug that could possible suffocate a man.  To Athelstan, though, it was always a reassurance that he had truly returned home to her.

“Nothing being home doesn’t make better.”

“Athelstan,” she warned, pulling away and looking him in the eye.

He shrugged.  “I took a life.”

“Oh, Athelstan.”  Her eyes held the sadness that he knew he should feel and did not.  “I’m sure you did so with a just cause.”

“Bjorn’s life was in danger.”

She offered him a kind smile.  “Then you are a hero.”

He shook his head in response.  “I am not a hero.  I am just a man looking out for those who mean the most to me.”

Helena paused before giving him a radiant smile and hooking her arm in his.  “How about we go home and you can get a full belly and tell me stories.  Then we can finish up plans for our wedding.”

“That sounds wonderful.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Anybody noticing what raiding is doing to Athelstan? Starting to look a little different to me…and that’s key to future chapters! Hope you enjoyed. Wedding next chapter!


	12. We Belong Together

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Anyone else seeing all these pictures and posts about the beginning of filming for the 2nd season? Anyone else smiling like an idiot about them? NO? Just me? Oh, okay…cool guys! lol j/k

_We belong together_

_Like the open seas and shores_   
_Wedded by the planet force_   
_We've all been spoken for_

_-Gavin DeGraw_

 

            Athelstan smelled the light odor of fresh bread just on the cusp of burning, and it woke him from his restful slumber.  Blinking his eyes open, he saw the beginnings of sunlight peeking through the windows and settling on Gyda, who was sitting by the fireplace braiding her dark blond locks.

            “Gyda,” he whispered, clearing his throat of the grogginess it held, “the bread is about to burn.”

            The young girl gasped and pulled the bread out as fast as she could.  She waved her hand over the bread to get rid of the wisps of burning that had begun.  Athelstan rose from his mat, feeling the absence of Helena’s presence at his side that he had become accustomed to over the past year.  He stretched and dressed in his day clothes before joining Gyda at the table.

            “Thank you for breakfast, Gyda.”

            She gave him a soft smile before breaking the bread and pouring him a glass of ale.  She nibbled at her portion while carefully watching him eat his.

            “Are you nervous?”

            Her voice was a reflection of the rest of what Gyda stood for: quiet, calm, always worried about others before herself.  Athelstan finished chewing his bread before answering her.

            “No, I’m not nervous.  I’m anxious, excited…and terrified.”

            She giggled loudly, which woke the rest of the household.  Bjorn and Ragnar groaned as they got out of their beds and came out to the eating area of the house.  Dirt kicked up around their dragging feet from the floor that desperately needed sweeping but had gone to the wayside thanks to all of the attention on the wedding.

            Gyda placed their breakfasts in front of each man and cleaned up the mess that she and Athelstan had made.  As the temporary woman of the house, she needed to keep everyone on track for the day’s festivities while her mother stayed with Helena at Floki’s house.  She pulled out their celebratory outfits and readied Athelstan’s ceremonial one.

            “Do you need any help, Gyda?” Athelstan questioned, watching as the girl flitted about from corner to corner, smiling about nothing in particular. 

            “No, I’m fine.  Thank you.  Father will have to take you to the bath house soon so ready yourself.”

            Athelstan didn’t know what that should have entailed but he puttered about to make it seem as if he was doing something to prepare for the day’s event.  Walking outside while he waited for Ragnar, he looked to the sky as if a sign from God would be awaiting him.  He was greeted with bright blue skies scattered by thin white clouds and flocks of chirping birds.  The trees were in a vast array of changing colors; gold, red, and orange merged with the defiant greens to make a natural bouquet.  Athelstan grinned, giving his thanks to God for what could only be a blessing on his upcoming life change.

            “Ready, priest?”

            Athelstan turned to find Ragnar dressed and eager to get a move on to the bath house.  He chuckled and nodded before they walked in the direction of Kattegat.

            Steam was the first thing that greeted the two men as the entered the house, the next was the fresh scent of clean rooms and bodies.  Men walked past them as they left, nodded to them as a greeting.  Athelstan was assuming that having a thorough cleaning was a tradition prior to a Viking wedding, otherwise he did not know why they would have come here; it was not customary for men to travel such a distance for something that took so long.

            Ragnar instructed Athelstan to strip down before guiding him to another room that held a large pool of water, surrounded by young women in white garments.  Athelstan hid his shock surprisingly well on his face before fumbling to cover himself.  Ragnar chuckled at his side and clapped him on the back.

            “Be careful, ladies, he’s to be married today.  But he does not have much practice with women!”

            The girls giggled as the men entered the water, and Athelstan held back his urge to strangle his friend for giving away such information; it was unnecessary to share.  The water instantly relaxed him, and soon he forgot his annoyance with the man across the way.  Ragnar was laughing once more as Athelstan’s eyes popped open when one of the girls started to scrub his shoulders, dipping into the water to wash his chest and stomach.

            “I-I t-think I-I can manage myself, t-thank you,” he stuttered, gently taking the cloths from her hands and moving away from the edge.  She looked confused but stepped back and allowed him to wash himself.

            “It’s not as if they’re touching you for pleasure, Athelstan.  They’re just trying to ensure that you are clean for your wedding.  Relax, will you?”

            “I understand their job, but I think I can manage just fine.”

            Ragnar rolled his eyes.  “Will you allow Helena to touch you tonight, or will you be able to manage just fine yourself?”

            Athelstan glared at him. “That’s different.”

            Ragnar let out a boisterous laugh before laying his head back on the side and allowing the women to clean him.  After giving it a moment’s thought, Athelstan gave a shy look at the girl who had tried to wash him earlier before walking back to the edge and handing the cloth over.

            “I promise that you can wash _certain_ areas yourself,” she said with a kind smile.

            “Thank you for understanding.”

 

            Feeling quite refreshed and relaxed, the men left the bath house and returned to the home where people were beginning to gather for the celebration.  While most weddings took place in town within the confines of a large building made just for such a gathering, Athelstan and Helena decided that they would prefer to stay at home with only the few people that had decided they wanted to witness their joining as man and wife.  It was the family, some neighbors, and a few of those who had voted to allow them to be married just a couple of months ago.

            Athelstan and Ragnar greeted those who had already shown up before heading inside the Lothbrok home to help Gyda and Bjorn with the last minute details.

            “Here you are, Athelstan.”  Gyda handed him the solid silver band that he had asked her to keep on her person until the wedding.  It was to be Helena’s for when they exchanged rings.  “I don’t want to worry about losing it while I set up the food.”

            “Is your mother not here yet?” Ragnar asked, going to his room to put on his cleaner set of clothes.

            “No but she should be shortly.”

            Athelstan turned the ring over and over in between his fingers before deciding to put on his ceremonial clothes to continue to greet guests.  He pulled on his brown pants and boots before letting his white tunic slip over his head.  Straightening everything, he put the ring into his pocket and joined Bjorn outside, taking one last look at the corner of the house that had been his for almost two and a half years.

            “Good to see you,” Athelstan greeted one person to the next, shaking hands and giving warm smiles.  “So happy that you could join us.”

            He caught sight of Lagertha carrying Ivar, joined by Floki, as she rounded the corner and into the yard.  She gave Athelstan a glowing smile, telling him with the simple gesture that she was just as happy and excited for him as he was about this day.

            “Good morning,” she said, passing him to go into the house.  “We will see you soon, okay?”

            “Okay.  Where is Helena?” he asked, looking around for her brown locks and kind face.

            “You will see her soon enough.  Patience.”

            Athelstan sheepishly stared at his feet before nodding and moving on to talk to others that he had missed before.  He noted that Helga was missing as well, and so he assumed that Helena was still with her, though only a few yards off and not still back at Floki’s house.

            “Are you ready to begin?” a voice came from behind him as he spoke with one of the slaves of the neighbor to the west.

            Athelstan turned and found one of the Norse priests standing there.  He had agreed to oversee the wedding ritual as long as Athelstan and Helena agreed to follow Norse traditions and not their old ones.  Athelstan gave him a smile.

            “Yes.  I’ve been ready since first light,” he joked, and the priest allowed himself a chuckle.

            Floki saw the exchange and gathered the attention of the crowd to stand on either side of the priest so that they could begin.  Once all were settled, Athelstan spotted movement from the nearby woods, and his heart skipped a beat as he saw Helena emerge.

            She was a vision in dark green; his favorite dress of hers and a recent purchase thanks to the raids.  Her hair flowed around her shoulders, adorned with a wreath of white flowers; the last time she would be allowed to wear her hair loose according to the Viking customs.  She carried in her hands a great sword, and on her face, a radiant smile.  Athelstan could not help but return the gesture, feeling as if he was the most blessed man in the world at that moment.  Helena was his, and he hers.

            “Good day to all gathered here today to witness the joining of Athelstan and Helena,” the priest’s voice boomed over the crowd, but could not completely drown out  
the songs of the birds in the trees.  “First, we will have the exchanging of swords.  This is to show the strength of a marriage bond, and to ensure safety for the first-born son.”

            Ragnar had explained to the couple a few days prior to this moment how exactly the ceremony would go so that they would know what was to be done at each point.  Now, Helena took Athelstan’s battle sword in her one hand and in turn gave him a new one to be able to continue fighting in the future.  As she held the old sword in her hands, Athelstan could hardly believe that one day she would hand that sword to their son so that he could follow in Athelstan’s footsteps.

            “Next, the exchanging of rings.  As the rings are placed on your fingers, be reminded today and always that the circle is a symbol of unbroken bonds, as your marriage may always be.”

            Helena took a ring from Helga’s waiting hand and smiled at Athelstan before placing the band on his left index finger.  He took her ring out of his pocket and also placed it on her finger, adding a gentle kiss to it, which caused Helena to giggle and the priest to clear his throat as the crowd hummed.

            “Finally, we will take Athelstan’s sword and recite the vows.”

            Athelstan put his sword between him and Helena, placing the tip into the ground.  They joined hands on the handle and bowed their heads.

            “Athelstan, repeat after me: I, Athelstan, pledge my life and my love to you, Helena.”

            “I, Athelstan, pledge my life and my love to you, Helena,” he stated in a clear voice so that she was sure to hear him.

            “And Helena.”

            “I, Helena, pledge my life and my love to you, Athelstan,” she said with as much conviction as he had just mere seconds ago.  He held her hands a little tighter, and they exchanged grins over the sword.

            “This has been witnessed by the god, Odin, and the goddess Frigg has been made happy.  You may kiss your bride, Athelstan.”

            Athelstan sheathed his new sword before taking Helena’s face in between his hands and kissing her, holding back since they were surrounded by so many.  He faintly heard as those around them clapped in joy for the newly married couple.

 

            Athelstan looked to his right where his new bride sat, smiling and glowing as she watched their guests dance well into the evening hours.  Her hands clapped along to the music and he found himself taking a hold of one of them and giving the palm a kiss. 

            “Are you happy, Athelstan?” she asked, stroking his cheek lovingly.

            “The happiest I’ve ever been,” he answered honestly, leaning into her touch.

            “We will see,” Helena smirked, and he knew immediately of what she spoke of.  He blushed before turning back to the crowd before them.

            Athelstan caught sight of Bjorn off to the one side, a young girl sitting next to him.  Her lips moved though he could not make out what she was saying.  Bjorn’s face turned a light pink color and the girl playfully ruffled his hair.  Athelstan then saw Ragnar in his peripheral vision, and the two men exchanged knowing looks and laughs over the telling scene before them.

            “How was your night last night?” he asked, turning back to Helena.

            She rolled her eyes to the heavens.  “Floki would not stop talking about the ceremony and all of the traditions, and how disappointed he was that we wouldn’t be celebrating for a full week like other Vikings.  I had a terrible time trying to get to sleep because of his constant gibbering.”

            Athelstan raised an eyebrow.  “Do you need your rest tonight, then?”

            Helena gave a bold laugh.  “Whatever my husband wishes…”

            “Then you will have to wait for rest, dear wife.”

            She laughed once more and kissed him full on the mouth.  “Just as I suspected.”

            Athelstan smiled and watched as Lagertha, Gyda, and Helga walked over to them.  The two older women had expressions of mischief while Gyda looked slightly embarrassed.  _It must be time to start the wedding night_ , he thought, changing positions in his chair as a nervous tick.

            “Helena, come with us.  We need to take you to the house to ready for tonight,” Lagertha informed the bride.

            Helena stood and gave Athelstan’s hand a squeeze before moving on with the small group of women.  She said her good-byes to the guests as she passed them, thanking them for their well wishes and presence on her special day.  Athelstan continued to watch the women until they disappeared into the darkness of the night, mere shadows in his vision.

            Ragnar sagged down into Helena’s previous seat, Ivar sleeping soundly in his arms.  He smirked over to Athelstan before saying, “Are you ready for this, priest?”

            Athelstan swallowed prior to answering.  “Yes.  And no.”

            Ragnar chuckled.  “Do not worry.  Helena does not have high expectations due to your inexperience.  It will come with time.  And then your children will roll their eyes at you and Helena as mine do to Lagertha and me.”

            Athelstan could not hold back the snort that escaped him.  “I suppose that makes me feel better.”

            Floki came up to the men and clamped a strong hand down on Athelstan’s shoulder.  “Are you drunk enough yet for tonight, priest?”

            “You two do realize that I have a name, right?  Please stop constantly referring to me as ‘priest.’  It’s disconcerting now that I am a married man; even more so when you consider what you two are discussing.”

            The others shrugged their shoulders as they did not care.  A few more minutes passed before Ragnar called over Bjorn to take Ivar so that he could deliver Athelstan safely to his new home.

            “Be careful, Bjorn.  I saw that girl flirting with you earlier; this could be you soon enough,” Athelstan joked, winking at the teenager.  “Marriage…baby…are you ready for that?”

            Bjorn’s eyes grew larger at the idea, but in fear instead of excitement.  “I’ll be careful, I promise.”

            The grown men laughed at the boy’s expense and began the journey to Athelstan and Helena’s new residence across the fields.  Athelstan shook hands and gave hugs as he thanked guests.  His heart began to pitter patter a little faster in anticipation, spotting the firelight coming from the house.  He became confused when he spotted all of the women outside of the home.

            “You have to carry Helena over the threshold so that she does not trip and curse your marriage,” Ragnar explained after seeing Athelstan’s furrowed brows.

            “What happens if _I_ trip?” he whispered back.

            “Then you’re truly doomed,” replied Floki, gulping the rest of his ale.

            Athelstan chose to ignore him and continued to meet Helena while Ragnar and Floki hung back.  The women took their own steps away from the entrance, allowing Athelstan to open the door and gather Helena in his arms, taking his time as he passed over the threshold before shutting the door with his foot.

            “This looks amazing,” he said as he put his bride down and saw all of the lighted candles and fireplace roaring.  The heat felt wonderful, as the nights were slowly becoming colder.

            “I’m glad you like it,” she answered, shrugging her outer robe off, revealing a thin white garment underneath.  Athelstan’s breath caught in his throat.

            “Helena…” he choked, unable to form any more words after that.

            She closed the gap between them and gently kissed him, her lips feather light as they moved across his.  He pulled her flush against him, eliciting moans from both of them before wrapping his arms around her thin waist and deepening the kiss.  He sucked her bottom lip and their tongues began a duel for dominance.  Her hands snaked up his neck and into his thick curls, burying deeply so that he couldn’t escape her (not as if there was any chance of that happening anyway).

            Athelstan’s senses were in overdrive as, for the first time, he did not have to hold back, did not have to stop himself from loving her.  The heat building from their bodies, the lack of air to his burning lungs, and a sudden panic forced him to pull back and rest his forehead on hers.

            “If I hurt you or I do something wrong, ju—“

            “Athelstan, you will be perfect.  You can’t hurt me, remember?  Now shush and take me to bed,” Helena interrupted.  She dropped her hands from his hair and eased his tunic over his head before splaying hers hands on his chest.

            Athelstan’s eyes shut on their own accord, the slight chill from her hands on him causing a shudder.  He kissed her once more before picking her up and taking her to their bed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I researched Viking wedding traditions to know what all they entailed, but I can’t be sure of the correct words used, so sorry if it’s short! Also, I’ve contemplated writing a companion piece which would be their wedding night, but I’ve never written out a love scene before so not sure if I would be any good at it…would anyone actually be interested, or are you okay with using your amazing imaginations? lol Please give me some feedback on the wedding and a possible companion piece! I love to read your reviews!


	13. Can I Stay

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I would just like to thank Comic Con for existing, for giving me some inspiration to write this next chapter. Has anyone else seen the preview to season 2? O.o Oh boy!
> 
> Also, a warning to go out for this chapter: though not explicit, there are some scenes in which you get the idea as to what is happening/just happened, but it IS a chapter about their honeymoon and rated T so if you don’t know what that entails, then you shouldn’t be reading this story in the first place lol
> 
> Enjoy!

_Can I stay here with you, till the day breaks_   
_How happy it would make me to see your face when I wake_   
_Lay with me in your thinnest dress_   
_Fill my heart with each caress_

_-Ray LaMontagne_

            Athelstan woke from his sleep in a sudden panic that something was missing.  Reaching over to his side, he found a warm spot but not a body to match it.  Throwing off the fur blankets that were tangled around his legs, he looked throughout the small rooms to see if he could find some trace of his wife.  Had she been a dream?  Was he waking up to find that he had imagined Helena entirely?  No, this was definitely his home that he had built with his own two hands and not the home in which his former owner lived in.  He couldn’t have completely made up the wonder that had been the previous night, so where was she?

            The door crept open and in came Helena, dressed in her nightgown and tiptoeing around so as not to wake him, he supposed.  Just seeing her and the sun that bounced off of her brown curls before she shut the door gave Athelstan enough of a relief that he blew out the breath that he had been holding with a large gust.  Helena turned sharply in his direction.

            “You’re up?  I was hoping to get away before you realized I had gone,” she greeted with a wisp of a smile. 

            Athelstan took two strides over to her and enveloped her in a tight hug, fighting tears back.  “I thought that I had dreamt you up; that you weren’t real and I would have to go back to the reality of not having you around.”

            Her hands played in his wild hair and at the nape of his neck where sleep sweat still lingered.  “Oh Athelstan.  It would take more than that to get rid of me.”

            He kissed her with a fever as if to suck her soul closer to his, not leaving any space between them, fearing that he was once again dreaming.  “Where did you go?” he asked at last.

            “Well if you must know, I had to relieve myself,” Helena replied with a half of a laugh, pushing him away gently and heading for the bed.  “But it’s cold this morning and so I would like to get back into bed to warm before I start breakfast.”

            Athelstan bit back his smile, the answer to her smirk as she wrapped up in the furs once more.  He walked back over and kneeled on the bed, leaning in to give her another kiss, this one less passionate then the other but giving her the message of what he had in mind.

            “I could help you warm if you wish,” he whispered against her swollen lips.  His hands traveled under the covers and found the bottom of her gown, slowly moving it further north.

            Helena paused as if to think of her answer before pulling him to her, laying back down and wrapping her legs around his waist.

 

            Athelstan drank deeply from the cup that held honey mead, not realizing until the liquid hit his tongue exactly how thirsty he was.  It tasted exquisite, just the right amount of sweet and sour that he needed.  Finishing the cup, he looked over to watch as Helena took the bread out of the hearth and onto a plate on the table to cool.  She ladled soup from a pot and put the bowls onto the table as well before calling him over to have dinner.

            “This smells incredible,” Athelstan noted as he took his seat across from her. 

            She poured more mead into his cup and helped herself to it as well.  Once she was seated, they said a short prayer of thanksgiving to God for their food.  Athelstan’s belly gave a slight growl in appreciation as the soup and bread filled him; if it wasn’t for Helena reminding him of the hours of the day, he didn’t know that he would remember when to eat or bathe.

            Back in England, Athelstan was unaware of the customs of marriage because he wasn’t around couples and would never have been.  But here in Scandinavia the apparent custom was known as a ‘honeymoon’ where a couple was to spend time with only one another in their home for a month.  The time before the wedding was spent gathering enough honey for the mead that was made to keep the couple hydrated during the couple of weeks away from the rest of society.  And the actual honeymoon was spent…well, close together. 

            Athelstan thought it was the best idea ever thought up.

            He helped himself to a second serving of soup and bread and gave Helena a strange look when she got up from the table to go back to their bedroom.  He could see from a changed angle that she was putting new blankets onto the bed before going past him with the old ones.  She put them in a basket outside, where Lagertha would come and take them for washing tomorrow.

            Athelstan’s face flushed at the sight of how dirty they were.

            Once he was done scraping at his bowl and wiping the crumbs off of his hands, he cleaned off the table in an effort to help out and scratched at his beard.  What was he to do now?  He wasn’t tired, there were no chores in which to finish before final light, but there was nothing in the house to keep him preoccupied until a more proper time in which to go to sleep.

            Helena washed their bowls and spoons quickly before drying her hands off on a nearby towel.  She walked past Athelstan with a smile to their bedroom and began to strip herself of the light amount of clothing on her back, not bothering to put any new ones on and slowly crawling under the furs.  Athelstan cleared his throat as he felt his body react to the vision that was his wife.  Shouldn’t it be considered a sin how much he wanted her, how much they lay together?  Shouldn’t he care?  Maybe, but he didn’t and so he found his feet taking him to her, her arms wrap around his neck and pulling him into their earthbound version of heaven.

 

            Athelstan was making his way back to the house from relieving himself to find Ragnar smirking at him from ten feet away.  It was strange, he found himself thinking, to see someone other than Helena.  He had almost forgotten how blue the other man’s eyes were or the height in which he stood. 

            Athelstan greeted him with a smile and the two shook hands.

            “How is it going?” Ragnar asked, nodding his head towards the house, the smirk never leaving his chapped lips.

            The younger man hesitated, not knowing how to reply while keeping the thoughts of Helena honorable.  She was so much more than he had ever expected.

            “I have no complaints.”

            Ragnar laughed and clapped Athelstan’s shoulder.  “So you are transitioning smoothly, then?”

            Athelstan shook his head.  “What are you doing on this part of the land?”

            “It’s my land; I can visit it any time I wish.”

            “That’s not what I meant.”

            Ragnar rolled his eyes.  “Lagertha wanted me to check the fields and I thought I would check in on you two, make sure that the mead was still flowing and such.”

            “And if we would have been unable to answer the door?”

            “I would have known that things were going perfectly,” Ragnar answered with a smile.  “Which makes me ask why you are out here?”

            “There are other things that a man needs to do besides laying with his wife.”

            Ragnar grunted his acknowledgement, playing with the braids in his beard.

            “So now you can tell Lagertha that all is well and that you have done your job thoroughly.  Please give everyone our regards.”

            The two shook hands once more and Athelstan watched as his friend walked off before heading back into the warmth of the house.

 

            As Athelstan and Helena’s breath intermingled, he found his thoughts going to how slow and yet fast their honeymoon had been.  Four weeks would end come the morning, and while he was happy for the ability to do something other than the basic needs of a human, he would miss it just being he and Helena, their days and nights wrapped up in each other.

            He slipped out of her and rolled onto his back, bringing her with him so that her head rested on his still heaving chest.  He played with her hair as his eyes closed on their own accord.  She snuggled in, wrapping a lazy arm around his waist and placing a soft kiss on his chest.

            “I’ll miss this,” he whispered, not knowing why he let his thoughts fall from his lips.

            “You make it sound as if we won’t be able to continue after tonight.”

            Athelstan shrugged his shoulders, feeling how stiff they were from a different kind of use.  “It won’t be the same.”

            “I should think it would be in both our interests to get out of this house and breathe in some fresh air and talk to someone other than just one another.  Besides, this house needs aired out desperately!”

            Athelstan chuckled.  “I quite like the smell of you and me.”

            “The occasional you and me smell is alright, but this is ridiculous.”

            His laughter grew louder, and Helena soon joined in.

            “I think you’re just trying to get rid of me,” he replied once they had calmed.

            “Of course I’m not.  There are things that I do enjoy about this.”

            “Such as?”

            “Not having to braid my hair.”

            That sent the both of them into a new set of giggles.  Thank God for the end of the mead because Athelstan was sure that they were drunk at almost every moment of the day anymore.  He looked down on her and kissed her when she returned the gaze.

            “I love you more than words can say,” he confessed.

            “I know.  I think you made sure to show me over these past few weeks.”

            They shared lazy smiles.  Athelstan raised her hand in his, playing with her fingers that glowed in the firelight, placing light kisses along her knuckles and palm.

            “I love you too,” she added.  “Always.”

 

            Athelstan would never admit how good it had been to get out of the house and to visit his ‘family’ once again.  Helena gossiped with Gyda as she played with Ivar, the baby having had grown by leaps and bounds since the last that they had seen him.  Even Bjorn and Gyda looked different, older than Athelstan remembered them.  He loved hearing the familiar bicker between Ragnar and Lagertha and news of the summer plans from Bjorn.

            They shared meals like they had before the wedding; Athelstan was happy to see that, though things were different since the wedding, he could still count on some things to stay as they once were.

           

            A new year began and Athelstan felt bright and cheerful about it, much more so than previous years.  He looked forward as to what more blessings could be brought his and Helena’s way, and it didn’t take long to come to fruition.  

            On a snowy day in which Athelstan felt chilled even to his very bones, Helena told him that she had important business to attend to with Lagertha and that she wouldn’t be long.  He chose not to think too much on the matter and went about his day indoors.  When she returned, her cheeks were a bright pink and her lips were in a pretty smile.  He couldn’t help but think that she was perfectly beautifu,l and that she had a secret behind that mouth.

            “Athelstan, I have something to tell you,” she announced, sitting down with him by the fire to warm.

            So he was right.  His stomach fell towards his feet.

            “Lagertha took me to visit one of the local women and she told me that we are to have a child.”

            Athelstan’s face held no emotion, as he could not comprehend what exactly she was telling him.  “What?”

            Helena giggled, almost as if she expected his confusion.  She took one of his hands into her own two cold as if to bring him back to reality.  “I am with child.  We will have a baby come the summer.”

            A baby?  But…they needed more time together!  He wasn’t displeased, no, he just couldn’t believe their luck to have had already conceived.  How long had it taken Ragnar and Lagertha to have Ivar?  But his wife was happy and she looked healthy.  They were to be blessed by the Almighty with a precious gift; something that was half of him and half of her.

            “That’s wonderful news,” he said at last, leaning over and giving her a kiss.

            “You’re not disappointed then?”

            “No!  No, just surprised is all.  Can you imagine?  A tiny us!”

            Helena’s smile grew as she felt more at ease.  “He or she will be perfect and wonderful, just like you.”

            Athelstan shook his head.  “No, perfect like you.”

 

            God tests all of us at one point or another, sometimes more than once.  Athelstan thought this as he watched Lagertha help clean up the blood left behind by the miscarriage.

            He had been forcefully taken from his home in England to a foreign land, having had seen his brothers brutally murdered by complete strangers.  He had almost been sacrificed to the gods of the pagans that he lived amongst, finally gaining their trust only to feel utterly betrayed (though it meant honor to them).  He had been trained by these same people to raid and had faced murdering someone as well.  His faith had been shaken more than once.

            He had had enough of these tests.

            What had he done to deserve this?  What had Helena done to deserve such heartache?

            It wasn’t fair to put his sins on her; what God would do that?

            For as long as Athelstan had known Helena, he knew that she wanted to be a mother.  She was healthy.  She ate well.  So why was he looking on as she cried over the sudden loss of their child, a mere two weeks after she had delivered the news to him?  She was the last person to deserve this.

            Lagertha gave him a look of understanding and condolence as she left, leaving a passing hand on his arm.

            Athelstan slowly made his way over to the bed where Helena lay crying, the furs bunched into her hands and face.  He sat down and gathered her willowy figure into his arms, kissing her head and sharing in her grief.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aww :( You’ll probably all hate me for this…oh sure, let Lagertha have another child but take away Athelstan and Helena’s! I know, I know! I cried while writing it :( But I guess that’s what we authors do; ups and downs. Which means it can only go up from here, right?! Maybe… stay tuned!


	14. Better than Love

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I still felt my muse and decided right after I posted the last chapter to write up this one. Lucky for you all that are still reading! Warning: this is a sad, frustrating chapter, but hopefully you all like it. It’s not easy being in a relationship! Thank you to all of you that take the time to read, and THANK YOU to those who take the time to review! It’s like crack to writers…but not bad for you haha

_So when I'm walking down the road and feeling bad_   
_Can't understand the things you do_   
_Nothing turns out the way we planned_   
_You're still my baby and I'm still your man_

_-Griffin House_

 

            Athelstan watched Helena as she slept; it was the only time in which he would not find her eyes ready on the verge of tears anymore.  But her forehead was creased and her breathing was getting faster, as if her dream was causing her distress.  Reaching over to her, he gently pushed stray hairs away from her face, running his thumb over her ruddy cheek.  She seemed to relax after that and so he removed his hand reluctantly.

            In the weeks and months following the loss of the baby, Helena had been very quiet and distant from Athelstan.  Lagertha told him not to take her reaction personally, as she was deep in grief and most likely blaming herself.  But it didn’t make him feel any better.  This was supposed to be a happy and exciting time for them, being newly married, and here his new wife was barely able to get out of bed or eat.

            Athelstan hated God.

            A shuddering breath informed him that Helena was awake even if her eyes weren’t open quite yet.  He braced himself for another day of talking to someone who wouldn’t answer with anything but a short nod or shake of the head.  His chest grew heavy and his body tired all over again at the thought of it.

            Helena’s eyes fluttered open and she looked almost hopeful when her gaze met his, but the reality set back in and he could see as the sadness weighed down her shoulders.  He brought her hand to his mouth and left a lingering kiss on the tops of her knuckles.

            “I’ll make breakfast,” he whispered, throwing the furs off of him and walking to the hearth to start the fire for the porridge.  As it roared to life, Athelstan filled the pot and put it over the flames to warm. 

Once Helena was up out of bed, he went to relieve himself for the morning and came back to see her sitting at the table, dressed for a day in which she would do nothing, waiting on her breakfast with an empty look in her eyes.

Athelstan stirred the porridge and, finding it warm enough, served Helena first and then put some in his bowl.  The crackle of the fire kept the silence from being deafening.  Athelstan felt as if he ate his meals at lightning speed anymore in comparison to Helena’s snail pace.  Her small bites and catatonic stares were playing on the last of his nerves; endless weeks of this and no end in sight.

“Ragnar said that we will start readying the land for planting within the week.  He wants to be sure of the last of the frost before we begin plowing,” he said in an effort to get her to speak.

Helena looked up and gave him as much of a smile and nod as she could seem to muster.  As she went back to her porridge, Athelstan felt a familiar and yet foreign feeling gurgle up from the pits of his stomach and crawl quickly up to his head.  His hands shook with anger, a rage that he could no longer take.

He picked up his empty bowl and spoon and took them over to the basin to be washed at some point, but as he went to place them inside, his arm flung the bowl at the wall across the way, causing a loud bang and the pottery shattered into pieces on the dirt floor below.

“You’re not the only one who has lost a child, Helena,” he spat out loudly.  Athelstan took the steps to where she sat, frightened and staring at him with a look he had never seen on her face before, taking her shoulders in his hands.  “I can’t begin to imagine what it is like to lose a child from your very body, but you need to SNAP OUT of whatever this is and TALK to me!”

Tears began to roll from her eyes and he swallowed the lump in his throat. 

“You’re my _wife_ , Helena, and we’re in this together.  I love you, and I miss you.”

Seeing that no words would come from her anytime soon, Athelstan released his grip on her and left the house, slamming the door behind him.  He had no intention of doing what he had just done but the frustration had become a constant sour taste in his mouth, and to get it out in the open made him feel (reluctantly) better.

Athelstan walked across the fields, through the tree line, and over to the edge of the cliff.  The water was calm and he could hear a faint trickle as it moved over and around the rocks along the coast.  Taking a deep breath, he sat down and closed his eyes, releasing the air in his lungs to the outer world.  And he cried.

 

He couldn’t say when he had fallen asleep on the damp earth, but he could tell you that it was the approaching footsteps that woke him.  Sitting up suddenly, Athelstan looked around to see where the noise was coming from, only to find a meek Gyda making her way over to him.

“Gyda,” he greeted, turning his eyes to the water.

“What are you doing out here?” she asked, her voice one with the wind.

“I needed some fresh air and change of scenery.”  His tone was dull and lifeless, and even he thought it harsh.

Gyda sat down next to him and twirled the wet grass in her fingers, pulling them from their roots.  “Have you finally shown your anger to Helena?”

Athelstan gazed down on the younger girl and wondered how she always knew so much with little to no detail.  “How did you know?”

Gyda shrugged, throwing the grass into the breeze and watching as it flew over the edge.  “I could feel that something was wrong, and I have seen the distance that you two have created since she lost the baby.”

He began to play with the grass around him as well.  “Everything was supposed to be alright now that we are married and now nothing is alright.”  He bit his lip, not knowing what to share with the girl since she was not part of the relationship and too young to know anything about one.  “I was there for her from the moment it happened.  I don’t understand why she won’t speak to me, why she barely eats, won’t get out of bed.  I lost a child, too.”

Gyda put her arm around him and rested her chin on his shoulder, much like they used to do when it was just the two of them years ago.  “She needs to know how you feel without the anger.  Do not yell.  Instead, continue to show your affections without expecting anything in return, like you have been before now.  Helena fell in love with my friend Athelstan, not the new Viking Athelstan.  Show her that you’re still that person.”

Her words stung him; the reality of them too much for what he could take at that moment.  “How?  I just want my wife back; I want someone to enjoy life with, not push and pull her around.”

She smiled up at him.  “I’m sure you will figure it out.  Just love her, Athelstan.  Like me, but more.”

He couldn’t help the laughter that erupted from him, bursting out of him from a place he had forgotten.  Turning, he kissed Gyda’s forehead before walking her back home.

 

Athelstan hesitated at the entrance of his home, pacing back and forth, not sure what to expect once he finally decided to enter.  Helena could be angered with him to the point of continuing not to talk to him.  Or she could have changed and was frantic as to where he had been all day. 

Or maybe she wasn’t even home at all.

As he finally headed for the door, it opened and Helena’s face appeared in the crack.

“Are you coming in, or are you going to continue to imitate Floki?” she asked, her voice soft and hesitant.

Athelstan gaped at her.  “I—I’m coming in.”

“Not until you get more wood for the fire.  We’re out and it’s freezing in here.”

He saw that she had one of their fur blankets wrapped around her shoulders and shivered at the air that came through the door.  Nodding, he went off to the side of the house and chopped some of the waiting wood into smaller pieces that would fit better.  He returned and put the wood into the fireplace, stoking it to make it roar to life once more.  Helena sat down and warmed her hands.

“Dinner is waiting for you,” she gestured to the table where meats and cheeses sat on a plate for him.

“Thank you.” 

As he ate, Athelstan saw that the house had been cleaned while he was out.  Apparently his actions and words had some sort of reaction in her, but at what cost?  Helena was speaking to him but her body language was quite cold and distant, turning her back on him while he ate.

“Thank you for cleaning.”

She looked over her shoulder and nodded before walking to their bedroom and preparing for sleep.  Athelstan didn’t know what to do; did he join her, or did he sit in the chair by the fire for the night?  Washing up his plate, he decided on sitting in the chair to let things cool off between them.  Then they could talk in the morning.

As he tried to get comfortable in the wooden chair, a heaviness came over him.  Athelstan opened his eyes to find Helena putting a fur blanket on him, tucking it around his body.  He tried to figure out what she was thinking but her face was a blank page.

“I love you,” he whispered, not knowing what else to say, and ‘thank you’ was becoming tiresome.

“Good night,” she replied, getting back into bed.

 

The morning was much like any other that they had had in the past weeks with the exception of Helena cooking breakfast.  She was up and moving before Athelstan woke, and he thought that his mind was playing tricks on him at the sight of his wife doing housework.

He groaned at the stiffness from sitting in the chair all night, and his neck cried out in protest from his movements.  Breakfast was a silent affair but not as formal of an occasion as previous ones.  They even helped each other with the clean-up and washing like they had when they lived with Ragnar and Lagertha.

When Athelstan went to stoke the morning fire, he heard the door open and close behind him.  Helena was gone and she hadn’t said as to where she may be headed.  Frowning, he followed her outside where he found her standing in the middle of the fields that spread far and wide between their home and the Lothbrok’s.  He made his way carefully over to her, making sure not to be too quiet so that she wouldn’t startle easily once he reached her.

“Helena?”

She didn’t flinch, didn’t move, and didn’t say a word.  As Athelstan went to her side, he saw her quivering lips and the tears that ran down her pale cheeks.  His heart broke at the sight and he took her into his arms, kissing anything that he reach, whispering in her ear words that really made no sense but seemed to be helping.

“Talk to me,” he begged her.  “I can’t help you if you won’t tell me how to.”

“I’ve failed you,” she wailed, her entire body heaving with her misery.

“What?  How—How could you possibly think that?”

She went to shake her head but his grip made it difficult.  “I couldn’t give you a baby.  I’m not good enough to be a wife or mother.”

“Oh, Helena,” Athelstan sighed.  “No, no you’re more than good enough.  It just…wasn’t our time yet to be parents.  And that doesn’t make it any easier to bear such a loss, but you never have and never will fail me.  You’re all I’ve ever wanted, and I need you to _always_ remember that no matter what we go through.”

She hiccupped beneath his hands, attempting to calm down.  Her balled fists opened enough to cling to his tunic, a sign to him that she was finally tearing down her walls.  Athelstan rubbed circles on her back as he waited for her sobs to cease.

“You haven’t touched me in forever,” Helena breathed, taking in the smell of him.

“I was letting you heal.  I just didn’t realize that it would take this long.”

“I was afraid of you touching me.”  There was a pause.  “I still am.”

“Why?”

“I’m afraid of becoming pregnant again.  And going through the same loss.”

Fresh tears sprung up and Athelstan continued to hold her while she let out her bottled up emotions.  If there was one thing that he had learned from yesterday, it was that not getting feelings out only led to destruction.

“I’m angry.”

Helena looked up at him, questioning his confession.

“I’ve known since I first met you that being a mother was all you ever wanted, and I’m angry that God took that from you.  And I’m angry that he made you feel this way about yourself because of it.”

She shook her head, bringing his head into her cold hands.  “Don’t talk like that, Athelstan.  God tests all of us and I did very poorly.  I believe now that he has done this to strengthen our bond as man and wife, and we need to remember that all good things come in His time.”

Athelstan agreed physically but he was still unsure of his stance on the situation as she saw it.  Helena brought him down to meet her in a hesitant kiss.

“I’m sorry,” she said, her lips brushing against his with her words.

“No, I’m sorry.”

She moved away only to grab his hand in hers.  “Let’s go home.”       


	15. Summertime Sadness

_Kiss me hard before you go_   
_Summertime sadness_   
_I just wanted you to know_   
_That, baby, you're the best_

_-Lana del Rey_

 

            Rolling his neck from side to side, Athelstan stopped midway and looked up to the bright sky above him.  It was that of a typical late spring morning, not very warm but warmer than the early season had been.  He would swear that sweat dripped from every surface on his body, his muscles aching down to the bone from the labor intensive work that he had been put to. 

The winter had lasted longer than the villagers had expected, and they were all behind in planting and harvesting the first group of crops because of it.  This, Lagertha explained, was why they all felt the pain so much more than the normal aches that came with the beginning of a season.  Athelstan agreed, but also blamed his new marriage and honeymoon as well; having lust for a woman that you could freely explore made for a very lazy man outside of a bed.

Wiping the sweat away from his eyes, he went back to work.  The early crops were coming up nicely, and Helena and Gyda were in charge of harvesting those that were ready for the picking.  Ragnar, Bjorn, and Athelstan were in a different portion of the fields, plowing the earth for some of the later crops that would be planted in due time.  From across the way, Athelstan found Helena checking to see the progress the men were making, and the two shared smiles, stopping him from working just so that he could take her in.

In the weeks following their fallout and make-up, Athelstan had noticed a difference in the dynamic of their relationship.  They both made more of an effort to talk to one another about whatever it was that hurt or worried them or made them feel appreciated.  They also divided the duties of the household between them, something that was a foreign idea for couples given their English backgrounds, but it was encouraged by Ragnar and Lagertha.

“If your wife is happy, then you are happy,” Ragnar had said to him casually as they sat by a fire one evening.

“Is that why the people marry for love and not for status here?” Athelstan had asked, having had pondered the idea on several occasions.

Ragnar squinted his eyes at him.  “What do you mean?  Do people in England not marry for love?”

Athelstan shook his head, poking at the fire with a stick.  “I don’t know much about the customs but from what I’ve heard in passing, it’s not a common occurrence to marry for love there.  You marry for survival or because your parents were friends and agreed on the match.”

Ragnar stroked his beard in a thoughtful way.  “I suppose some marry for status, but most do not.  It’s a horrible way to go about things.  If someone here were to try that idea and the woman decided that she hated her prospect, they would call the wedding off.  An unhappy wife leads to a marriage that doesn’t work, unhealthy children will be born and that does not bode well for the future of the family or the future of the people as a whole.”

“So if I make Helena happy then I will have a lasting marriage with many healthy children?”  Athelstan did not know if he fully believed that thought process, seeing as how he knew that they had been happy before and Helena still lost their child.

Ragnar grunted.  “Yes, priest.”

And that was why the couple agreed that Athelstan and Helena working as a team within a marriage was the best route to go for a successful life together.  It seemed to be working as well; Helena looked happier and healthier than even their wedding day, if it was possible.  Once more Athelstan felt that she was hiding something from him, but whenever he asked her about it, she would smirk and shake her head, kissing away his questions.

“Hurry up, Athelstan,” Ragnar complained, taking a large gulp of mead that Lagertha brought over to him.  “We’ll have to work past daylight at this pace.”

Athelstan adjusted the equipment before driving the plow into the ground.  Bjorn had the ropes in his hands, pulling while Athelstan pushed, the two working as one.  Out of the corner of his eye, Athelstan could see as Lagertha gathered up the baskets from the two ladies and took them to wash the dirt off of the crops.  Ivar toddled after her, babbling along the way.

“I would much rather be raiding than doing this,” Bjorn complained as they came to the end of the row.

Athelstan turned the plow to the next area, readying for the next line.

“Soon, Bjorn, soon,” Ragnar sighed.  “But if we want to survive until that point then we have to get this done.”      

Athelstan didn’t know about wanting to get back to raiding but he did want off of the damned fields.  He practically breathed in the mead that Ragnar handed him, downing the entire cup in only mere seconds.  His thoughts turned to what could await him after the day was finally through, and a burst of energy came through. 

“What has gotten into you, priest?” Bjorn yelled back to him as Athelstan pushed the plow closer and closer to the dragging teenager.

“You wish to go raiding and I wish to just get home tonight.”

Ragnar let out a barking laugh, knowing exactly what Athelstan spoke of.  “You’re my favorite, priest.”

Bjorn scowled.

 

“I don’t want you to go,” Helena said as she drew on his chest with her finger, an air of begging tugging on the corners of her words.  They lay in bed side by side, keeping warm with each other’s body heat.

Athelstan ran his hand up and down her bare back, loving how smooth the skin was beneath his fingertips.  He kissed her lips gently, lingering so as to hold it to memory.

“I don’t want to either, but I have to.  The crops will not sustain us this year.”  He paused, trying to calculate in his mind what the next year might hold for them.  “I may be able to stay home after this summer.  We will see.”

Helena leaned forward and replaced her finger on his chest with her lips.  “Please don’t do anything irrational.  I need you to come home to me.”

Athelstan pulled her up to him so that they were eye-to-eye.  “As long as I have you to look forward to, I’ll do anything and everything to come back.”

He molded his mouth to hers, exploring every part of it, their tongues meeting in a familiar dance.  She wrapped her arms and legs around his willing body, pulling him on top of her to get lost in one another countless times over.

 

Athelstan awoke the next morning to find that Helena had slipped from his grasp at some point in the early morning.  She slept peacefully just a few inches from where he ended up in the bed, her shoulders gently rising and falling with every breath.  He slowly came to her side, putting a protective arm around her slim waist, resting his hand on her lower stomach.  The area felt harder than what Athelstan remembered but he brushed it off as drowsiness; she had had him up practically all night, though there would be no complaints on his part.

As he nuzzled her neck, Helena stirred, bringing her back closer to meet him.  Athelstan brushed her long curls out of his way, trailing the sensitive skin with kisses.

“I would have thought last night was enough,” she mumbled, teasing him already and the day had barely started.

He smiled into the crook of her neck.  “Never when it comes to you.”

Helena took her hand on top of his and moved it higher up on her abdomen, lacing her fingers with his.  “I was hoping that this morning would have taken a little longer to get here.”

“Me too.  But the sooner we get this over with, the sooner I’ll get back to you.  And then we can get back to this again.”

Helena snorted, quite unladylike, too.  “I’m officially declaring that there is absolutely no help for you.”

Athelstan grinned, untangling from her and sitting up.  He rubbed his tired eyes and ran a rough hand through his messy hair.  He would wash up while Helena made up their breakfast, finish packing, and then they would meet up with the Lothbrok’s on the way to the docks.  His heart dropped to his feet when he thought of leaving his bride here by herself for the first time since their wedding day; last time she had still been living with Lagertha and had the company; now she would have to handle an entire household on her own.

“I’ll be fine,” she whispered in his ear, joining him.

He tilted his head to the side to meet her gaze.  “How do you always know?”

“When you have met your mate in life, your souls connect and you just know.”  She scooted to the edge of the bed before putting her dress on.  “Come on, you need to get ready.”

The sights at the docks were like those they had witnessed the prior summer; families and friends, both old and young alike, coming to see off the able handed men and women.  Most had smiles on their faces, eager to join in the celebration of the new season of raiding which would get them through the long winter months.  But there were tears as well, and Athelstan recognized them as being newlyweds as well, the wives having a hard time with the parting that was so different from other times in which they had said good-bye.

“Are you sure that you’ll be fine?” he asked, turning his attention back to Helena.  He held her hard working hands within his, rubbing his thumbs over her knuckles.

She gave him her best smile.  “I promise.  Lagertha and Gyda and Ivar are only a short ways away, and I have promised to visit with some other friends.”

Athelstan nodded, finding it odd to think of her doing normal day-to-day activities without him.  He caught something moving in his peripheral vision, and so he turned to find Rollo coming down the hill, accompanied by his usual smirk and his wife, Siggy.  It had been more than a relief to have been away from the vial man for most of the year, safe within his own home.  Now he was stuck breathing in the same air and sharing meals once more.

Rollo gave the couple a disgusted look as he walked past, bumping Athelstan’s shoulder.  He turned to find Helena near spitting on the man.

“Don’t let him get to you,” he mumbled, rubbing her arms.

“And you’ll do the same.”

“Athelstan, let’s go!” Ragnar bellowed from the deck.

“Right.”  He held Helena’s hand as they walked from the hillside to the open dock, most of the families standing back at this point.  “I love you more than any words.  I’ll be back soon, I promise.”

She nodded, not letting tears come to her eyes, for which he was most grateful.  He kissed her hard and long, not wanting to stop but after some time she gently pushed him away.

“I love you and I’ll see you soon.”

Athelstan turned and walked the rest of the way to the boat, getting in with the men that had lingered behind as well.  He sat in front of Bjorn, as he had done last summer for the boy’s first raid, and set his bag down.  Lagertha caught his eye and he waved to her and Gyda, feeling guilty for almost forgetting to do so.

“Think you’re ready for this, priest?” Rollo drawled, sitting down at the front of the boat.

“I think I’ve got the hang of it, thanks.”

“We’ll see.  Things change when you’re a married man.  Or so I hear.”  Others around them chuckled along.  “We’re going a little further this time.  Do try not to go weak on us.”

Athelstan said nothing in return, already dreading the voyage even more than he had.  How could he forget how arrogant and petrifying Rollo could be?  One only remembers what they want to remember, he supposed, and Rollo was not one person he had wanted to remember.  Ever.

 

Helena stood at the end of the dock, watching as the boats left, barely a blimp in the horizon at this moment.  Her hands rested on her stomach and she felt as bile raised high in her throat.  Her list of regrets grew as Athelstan traveled further from her side even though her mind fought back every step of the way.

“How are you feeling?” Lagertha asked from her side, a quiet yet strong force of nature.

“Sick.  Disappointed.”

“Why disappointed?”

Helena turned to her friend and former master, finding little Ivar giving her a smile that had even more teeth than she last recalled.  “I didn’t tell him.”

“What was your reasoning?”

Her attention was back on the sea, her enemy in this lifetime.  It had taken her from her home, and now it took her love from her time and time again.  “I couldn’t do that to him.  He would have wanted to stay and we cannot afford it.  Besides, if I were to tell him that I am with child only to lose it again, his staying here would have been for nothing.”  Her head shook on its own accord.  “No, this was the best option.  When he returns from this trip I will tell him.”

“Athelstan perceives more than you give him credit for.  Maybe he already knows and decided not to say anything because you did not.”

“Maybe.  I guess I’ll know when I tell him.”

“Let’s hope you get a chance to.”

Helena’s head whipped back to Lagertha.  The woman’s face held no malevolence but her tone said that this trip was not like others.  “Why would you say that?”

She adjusted Ivar on her hip.  “They are travelling further this time to explore more of the world.  England wasn’t supposed to exist but it does, so what else is out there?  We need more than just one country to raid; they’re catching on to us and our ways.”

Helena said nothing of her knowledge of the rest of the world.  She knew what was out there; that there was another country attached to England with yet another to her West and even more to her South. 

What was to become of her Athelstan?  Would he survive?  He had done it before when the Vikings had raided Lindisfarne.  What kind of people would they go up against?  Could he fight them off?  What if they did not speak the language?  How could he hold them off like he did in England?

The protective grip on her abdomen grew tighter as the prospect of the father of her child not returning to them became more of a possibility rather than a nightmare.

_Please Lord, keep him safe and bring him back to me.  Alive._


	16. Death Defied by Will

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello readers! Thank you for your continued support! If you feel up to it, please head on over to my friend’s work “All for Fragarach” by S.K.A. Birch on fanfiction.net! She’s a new writer and could use some words of encouragement :) If you enjoy my work…her way with words when describing a scene is spectacular! I (and she, I’m sure) would really appreciate it.
> 
> Does anyone have a Tumblr? I don’t, but I visit them often because those people are great (and hysterical)! I’d love to see yours, so let me know!
> 
> P.S. Does anyone know where else I could post this story? I have it here and on fanfiction.net but I’d love to get it out there more! Or, if you have some power (like a blog or something), please feel free to encourage people to check it out :)
> 
> Geez I’m asking a lot of you all this week! I’m done, I swear!

_He only thought he was going for the thrill of a ride_   
_Wasn't in the plan to be gone for long_   
_But he keeps looking back over his shoulder, yeah_   
_He knows that something might go wrong_

_-Eagle-Eye Cherry_

 

            The sea thrashed and heaved against the side of the boat, and Athelstan was reminded of his first voyage from England to Scandinavia.  His stomach tumbled inside of him, threatening to spill up and over into his throat.  As he rowed along with the group, his heart thudded against his chest, a steady drum to keep the pace.  Water drizzled down from his soaking hair onto his face and in his eyes, burning them to a constant redness.  He couldn’t stop the constant shivering that came with the sea and the wind.

            Athelstan could feel the difference in this trip when he compared it to others that he had been on.  If they had been headed for England, they would have already been there by now.  But when Ragnar saw land a few days prior, he skirted them around the shore and set them off into open water once more.  The sea felt even more violent than that of previous experience, and Athelstan’s body ache to be able to move around and stretch without worrying of tipping too far to one side.  He was not made for this life, he had concluded each day.

            As the night ended and daylight broke over the horizon, the rains stopped and the sea calmed.  The sun created hues of pinks and purples across the expanse of the sky, and Athelstan’s sense of dread became even more apparent.  Red skies or any variation of it found in early morning’s light was never a good sign.

            This trip would be the destruction of him.

Arriving on shore, the cliffs of the land that greeted them were harsh, and down the way water rose high as it broke against natural border.  The group made their approach around the shore in hopes to find an easier way to get to the mainland, not wanting to risk their lives with a possible climb upwards.  Bjorn’s face held the concern that Athelstan felt, and he worried for the young boy.

            “I’ve kissed a girl,” Bjorn confessed, not looking Athelstan in the face.

            “What?” Athelstan asked, thinking that he had heard him wrong.

            Bjorn turned to him.  “The girl that I was talking to at your wedding, the one that you teased me about?  We’ve been spending time together and I kissed her before we left.”

What did one say to such a thing?  ‘Good for you’?  Athelstan put an arm around Bjorn and chuckled, “Keep an eye out for anything dangerous so that you can get back to her and practice some more.”

Bjorn shrugged the arm off as if annoyed but Athelstan saw that he was biting his lip so as not to smile.

“What is her name?”

“Dalla.”  His eyes lit up as he remembered something about her.  “She is training to join us someday.”

Athelstan nodded his head, moving with the cluster as the search continued on.  “Does your father know about Dalla?”

Bjorn’s cheeks gave away his answer.  Athelstan felt almost honored to be the only one with the knowledge of something important in Bjorn’s life, but he knew the only reason why he was given this gem was because the young boy was scared of the new country.

“I won’t say a word.”

Bjorn gave him a knowing stare.  “Thank you, priest.”

“Over here!” yelled someone to the right of the group.  Regarding where he was pointing, they all spotted a trail that took them up above the cliffs.  It was sharp, but much more manageable than climbing.

“One problem down,” Athelstan said to Bjorn before they took their turn up the steep hill.

As they made their way to the top, Athelstan noticed a vast array of birds that made their way around, diving over their heads to the water below, squalling with their diverse voices.  The wildlife here was unlike anything that he had seen in England, and Scandinavia for that matter.  Somewhere in the background he heard a barking of sorts but couldn’t find the source of it; were there breeds of dogs that lived here that were also different from that of what they knew?

The ground was thick with the greenest of grass and lush trees sprang up around them, but even as they made their way further into land, Athelstan never lost the smell of the sea.  How curious, as that had never been the case anywhere that they had landed in England.

After walking for some time, they came across a wall made of the flimsiest of wood.  Ragnar pushed gently on it and it practically gave way, making the men, especially Floki, laugh at the poor excuse of protection from invaders.  Athelstan swallowed a lump that caught in his throat as the realization struck him.

It was a monastery.

Dear God what was he going to do?

“Are you feeling okay, priest?” Bjorn asked, coming to stand next to him.  “You look pale.”

“Bjorn, I—“

“This won’t take long.  We push through the gate and grab whatever you can,” announced Ragnar. 

Rollo kicked in the entrance, sending the entirety of the wall down with it.  With a thud and cloud of dust, the Vikings entered the holy grounds and spread out as they had done so many times before.  As some of the older men took in the sights, Athelstan could feel their stares at his back.  They knew what this would mean for him.

He would have to prove his loyalty to them.  This would mean so much more to them than any prior raiding.

“Athelstan, why don’t you run ahead and inform the priests of our arrival,” Rollo snickered, shoving him forward.

Athelstan looked over his shoulder to Ragnar who motioned him on.  Knowing how hard this would be for Athelstan to face, his history and how he already struggled to fit in fully with the Norse, and Ragnar chose to side with his brother?  Athelstan bit the inside of his mouth to keep from yelling obscenities at someone he had dared to trust.  How could he?

Athelstan took the steps he needed to get to the door where the brothers would be partaking in their daily activities.  He heard muffled talking and could feel the anxiety that crept through the cracks of the wood, or was he remembering that day at Lindisfarne?  Shaking his head to clear it, he knocked, praying that he could conduct a safe exchange and get the hell out.

An older man answered and gave a genuine smile.  He spoke words that were not like anything Athelstan had heard, and his heart dropped a little at the idea of not being able to communicate.

“I’m sorry,” he interrupted, “but do you speak English?”

The man’s eyes widened before he put up a finger and went to find another monk.  A younger man came to the door, reminding Athelstan of what he must have looked like just a few years prior.

“Can I help you?” the brother questioned.

“Yes, actually.  My name is Athelstan and as you can see,” he pointed out the crowd he had traveled with, “I have some men with me.”

The other man looked around the corner and his eyes broadened with horror at the sheer size of the Vikings along with their weapons and unkempt appearances.  He began to back away and shut the door but Athelstan threw his arm out to stop him.

“Please, I can explain.  My name is Athelstan and I, too, am a monk.”  The brother caught sight of his wedding ring as Athelstan held up his hands.  “ _Was_ a monk.  I lived at Lindisfarne.”

The man gasped and covered his mouth with both hands.  “Oh Lord!”

“Listen to me!  I can keep this civil if you just listen to me!  What is your name, brother?”

He hesitated but then finally whispered, “Thomas.”

Athelstan offered up a smile.  “Brother Thomas.  I know what you must be thinking right now; how you must be feeling.  I had quite the experience myself.  But I need you to understand that all these men want are the gold and jewels so that they can continue to support their families.  If you hand them over willingly, I promise that you will not have any harm come to you.  Do you think that you can have your brothers gather all the valuables and bring them to us?”

Brother Thomas looked at the group within the confines of the building and nodded his head.  Turning, he spoke the different tongue that Athelstan had heard earlier.  They, in turn, looked to the man in the doorway with curiosity.  The younger ones of the group nodded and got up from their chairs, walking towards the sacristy. 

Athelstan turned to Ragnar and the men, curtly nodding so that they knew to come forward.  Ragnar playfully nudged Rollo as they came up to the clay walled housing.  

“They will be back shortly, Brother Athelstan,” Thomas reported, staying close to the door.

_Brother Athelstan_.  How long since he had heard that?  And with such a loving tone.  Though Thomas knew he was no longer a monk, he still recognized the boy from the past and wasn’t treating him as a traitor: for marrying or for becoming one of the enemy.

“Thank you.”  He turned to the Vikings.  “Brother Thomas has spoken to the other monks and has sent them to retrieve what valuables we wish to have.  They will be with us shortly.”

“What did I tell you?” spoke Ragnar.  “It helps to have a former holy man on your side!  And you, Rollo, thought that I was crazy to keep him!”

“I didn’t come here to play nicely,” Rollo growled, moving forward in a dangerous stance with his hand on his sword.  Athelstan stopped him, using all of his strength to throw Rollo up against the wall and shoving an elbow into the man’s sternum.  Rollo looked down at him as if he had seen Athelstan perform a magic trick.

“Don’t you dare,” Athelstan warned, his voice low.  “They have agreed to give you _everything_ that they have in return for safety from your swords and axes.  If you touch one hair on any of their heads, I will personally run mine through your belly.  Do you understand?  I _refuse_ to see these men killed over your ego and retched way of thinking.”

He let go with a shove and walked into the monastery to find trinkets waiting to be taken.  Athelstan waved men in to bag them up.  He shook hands with Brother Thomas.  “Before we take our leave, would you mind telling me where we have landed, Thomas?”

The monk looked surprised.  “You have landed in Ireland, Brother Athelstan.”

Ireland!  He should have known.  “We appreciate all of your help and patience,” he said before leading the group out, ignoring Rollo’s deathly glare at him.

 

“What is that?” Floki pointed to a large shadow that loomed in the distance.  The afternoon was clear and so the men and women felt as if they could see for miles in front of them.

The Norse viewed that of which Floki spoke, squinting their eyes to try to see if they could make an easier picture of it.  Muffled speech erupted as confusion took over. 

“We will sail over to investigate,” Ragnar said in his authoritative voice.  “Load up quickly and head in that direction.”

As the boats coasted over to the shadow, Athelstan heard the barking once more and he turned to find strange animals lying on the rocks.  They were varying in size but they were grey and white with fins and whiskers, it appeared.  Seals!  How long it had been since he had laid eyes upon them.  Truly majestic creatures they were as they dived in and out of the waters below, their fur glistening in the sunlight as they bathed.

The boats closed in on the mass shortly thereafter and Athelstan found himself upset to find that it was more land.  Glancing back, he understood why they had continued to smell the salty sea air as they came upon the monastery: it was an island.  And the shadow that they had spotted was the main land.

Floki hooted to the skies.  “Odin!  Thor!  You _do_ love us!”

Ragnar and Rollo clasped hands, exchanging a greedy look.  The others in the boats cheered at their discovery, patting each other on the back at their luck.

“Would you look at that, priest!” Bjorn exclaimed, his body alight with nerves.  “Mother won’t know what to do with herself after she sees all that we bring home!”

Athelstan should have grabbed a new Bible while he had the chance.

 

With full bellies and mead in their systems, the group was falling asleep at the foot of the trees.  They were truly nature’s blanket and it was a blessing to be kept out of the heat of the sun.  Athelstan’s body felt heavy and he lost the fight to dreamland.

A snap of wood woke him just as he dreamt of reuniting with Helena, her hair and smile shining and her arms held out just for him.  Blinking several times to focus his vision, he noticed that Bjorn had an expression of utter fear.  Athelstan turned quickly to see as people with their faces painted, spears and bows and arrows in their hands, making their way straight for them.  They didn’t look very friendly.

“Ragnar,” Athelstan yelled out as he reached for his sword.  That woke the rest of the camp, who were ready at a moment’s notice.

The savages lunged for them and they took up in arms.  Arne, who Athelstan had not exchanged words with since prior to the wedding, took a swing at one of them with his axe and decapitated them, spraying blood around him.  Erik, a massive man, took no fear at the sight of a man’s bow and arrow and grabbed it, snapping the bow in half before seemingly snapping the man in half as well.  Athelstan twisted and turned, taking on all of those who swarmed him from every side, his senses in overdrive.

But he didn’t see her coming.

A young woman, Gyda’s age if he had to presume, came from behind while he was distracted and stabbed one side and then the next with her spear, moving on to the next victim, a ghost in the wind.

Athelstan fell to his knees.  The pain was searing and blinded him, but not before he saw the satisfied smirk of his opponent, who moved along.  Athelstan grabbed at both sides and pulled his hands up closely, their red smears his last memory before everything faded to black.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Was that really long? I hope you don’t mind! For those who may wonder, the island that they landed on was Lambay Island, off the eastern shores of Ireland. And the town that they were making their way to before the Celts came along was Brega, which apparently no longer exists (at least by that name). To any native Irish readers, I apologize if I got anything wrong (Wikipedia is my source!) but I’m just writing this for fun so please don’t take it personally! 
> 
> Poor Athelstan is badly injured! Will he make it home? Will he ever find out about the baby on the way? Stay tuned!


	17. Cosmic Love

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey readers! I tried to put a divider in so that this chapter wouldn’t be so confusing. You’ll be going through a lot of different scenarios and so I wanted to make things easier for you. I hope it works!

_I took the stars from my eyes, and then I made a map_   
_And knew that somehow I could find my way back_   
_Then I heard your heart beating, you were in the darkness too_   
_So I stayed in the darkness with you_

_-Florence + the Machine_

 

He felt hot and sweaty even though the wind blew gently through his hair, whistling as itmoved the leaves on the trees.  He took off his belt that carried his sword, his tunic, and his shoes, wiggling his toes.  Giggling came from behind the trees and Athelstan turned to see where it was coming from.  Someone ran around the forest floor, their feet swift and they were so fast that it created a blur behind them.  He tried to hone in on them; to make out who it was and maybe why they were running about.  The laughter continued, a sound reminding him of a piper’s pipe, sweet and melodic.  He couldn’t help his grin and the laughter that bubbled up from him, though he didn’t fully understand why he joined in.

The laughter made him happy and he felt safe in its presence.

But he was so hot and it was irritating him that even though he had rid most of his clothing, nothing seemed to help.  Forgoing the search for the laughing figure, Athelstan began to walk, feeling his feet sink the slightest bit into the ground, leaves sticking to the bottoms.  He came across a wading river and he quickly ran over to it, drinking from it and splashing his face.  Feeling how refreshing it was, he washed his arms and torso.

The laughter, which had previously dissipated, came back and he turned to see a face peering out at him.  Leaving the water, he made his way over to them but whomever it was turned to run.

“Wait!” he called out, his arm stretched out in front of him.  “I won’t hurt you.”

“I know,” the person answered, and he immediately recognized it as Helena.  “But I’m trying to get you home.”

“Get me home?  But am I not already?”  Peering at his surroundings, it resembled Scandinavia and the village where they lived.

“No silly!” she giggled in his ear, but the sound now made him uncomfortable.  She poked his side and he winced, stepping away from her.  But she persisted, moving to his other side as well, poking until he cried out in agony, shoving her away.  Helena’s eyes turned a vicious green, a dangerous shade that took his breath away.

“How dare you leave me!” she shrilled.  “How dare you leave us!”

The poking continued until he could no longer take it, until the shoving worked no more.  Athelstan stood with every bit of strength he had left and took the creature’s head, smashing it against the nearest tree and watching as the body fell into a lump on the ground.

“You are not my wife,” he huffed until he, too, fell onto the ground from exhaustion.

 *****

“Athelstan.”

He was too groggy to answer, to open his heavy eyes, to move his aching body.  He rolled his head from side to side, wanting the whispering of his name to stop, to leave him alone.  Sleep.  That’s all he wanted to do.  Sleep.

“Athelstan!”

His eyes popped open at the insistence of the last one.  A young woman leaned over him, her face full of concern and hesitation.  She lifted a hand and wiped his brow with a cool cloth.  He wanted to thank her for doing so, it felt wonderful, but his tongue stuck to the roof of his mouth as it did when he had drunk too much mead in one sitting.

“There you are,” she smiled, and he finally recognized it as Gyda.  There was a halo around her and he wondered if she had become an angel since he had last seen her.  Did that mean that they were both dead?  Who was dead?  Why was he thinking of death?  Oh, right, the halo.  What was Gyda doing with them?  They were in Ireland; she hadn’t stowed away in the boat had she?

Athelstan shook his head, wanting the endless thoughts to stop. 

She tipped some water into his mouth and he drank heavily, feeling the sloshing of it as it settled in his empty belly.

“Thank you, Gyda,” he said, his voice hoarse.  “Why are you here?”

“I’m not Gyda.”  The voice changed and he saw as Lagertha’s features take over her daughter’s.  “And I’m here to bring you home.”

“You came all the way to Ireland?”  Athelstan was very confused.  “For me?”

“Of course.  You are my friend, and you can’t leave them.  It is not your time.”

“Can’t leave who?”  What was she talking about?

“Shh,” she answered, putting a finger to her mouth and he saw the dried blood that had crested on it.  “Just rest and you’ll see them soon.”

Where did the blood come from?  And who would he be seeing soon?  He had so many questions but as if her words had cast a spell, his eyelids drooped on their own accord and he fell deep within their depths.

 *****

He was so bitterly cold.  And wet.  Why was he soaking wet?  Athelstan opened his eyes and found that his body was surrounded by water, enough to drench the entirety of his backside.  He sat up, his braids heavy from the added weight of water.  He noted that he was in a small rowing boat, and that it had apparently sprung a leak, leading to his current predicament.  But as he looked out further than his current location, he discovered that he was in open ocean, the boat rocking to and fro from the small waves.

Athelstan’s body shook from the cold and his back ached and chest hurt from the spasms that his muscles made.  He searched for something that could help him rid the boat of the water; finding a bucket at the helm, he picked it up, tiring his muscles as he attempted to drain the water out.

“Athelstan.”  The voice came from the ocean, bouncing off the sides of the boat, eerie and beckoning him to it.

He glanced over his shoulder as it came closer, now off to his left.  It was a woman, her hair matted and full of sea life.  She was beautiful, much too beautiful to be of the sea.  He turned to get a better look at her and found that it was not some strange woman, but in fact his Helena.

“You look tired, Athelstan,” she greeted, reaching up from the water and touching his brow.  Her hands were cool, which was surprising given that he felt as if he was in a field of snow.  “What are you doing?”

He furrowed his brow at her.  What did she mean, what was he doing?  “I’m trying to get the water out!  I’m so cold.”

She gave him a look of sadness and held his hand, leaning up on the edge, tipping the boat towards her.  He was unafraid of falling in; she would save him if he needed it, wouldn’t she?  “Stop, Athelstan.  Do not fight the water, for it cleanses you and heals you.”

“Heals me?  But there’s nothing wrong with me.”

As if his words were a signal, both of his sides began to ache and burn.  He hissed and grabbed them simultaneously, only making the pain worse.  Helena reached for the closet hand and pulled it away gently.

“Do not hurt yourself further.  Relax.  Breathe.  Let the water do what it needs to so that you can come home to me.  Safe and sound, just as always.”

“I miss you,” he cried, suddenly feeling very empty and alone. 

She shook her head and gave him a smile that resembled more of a grimace.  “I’m always with you, Athelstan.  But you need to have faith.  You have been lost; now let yourself be found.  Let God’s creation be your salvation.”

Her words sank into his soul and, though his loneliness did not end, his tears dried.  He watched as she took back her comforting hand and dipped it into the water.  It popped back up and she had it curled around something.

“Hold out your hand, Athelstan.”  He did as he was told, and she emptied the contents into his waiting palm.  “Use this to stop the leak, but leave the water where it is.  I need you to trust me.”

Blindingly he agreed.  As he plugged the hole in the bottom of the boat, he heard a splash and found that Helena had gone, ripples in the water the only sign of her formerly being there.  He laid down and let the water rush over him again, closing his eyes and sleeping.

 *****

A piercing cry rang out, causing Athelstan to jump into a sitting position in his bed.  He was comfortably warm, encircled by the furs and Helena’s warm body.  Her arm had been draped around him and so when he awoke, she did as well. 

“Are you alright?” she murmured into her pillow, her hair a blanket on her face.

“Did you hear that?”

“Hear what?”

The cry came again, this time longer.  It was outside of the house where he couldn’t see.

“That.  That crying.  You don’t hear it?”

“I think you’re just tired.  Lie down and go back to sleep.”

But he couldn’t.  The curiosity became too much and so he threw the furs off, making his way to the door.  He grabbed a tunic on his way, his cloak and boots joining it.  The wind nearly knocked him on his feet but he stood still, letting his body adjust.  The cry came once again, from the forest line, both louder and quieter at the same time.  Athelstan let his feet take him to the noise, his heart pounding and he felt lightheaded.  The snow covered the fields thickly, Athelstan’s footprints leaving a distinguished trail to his destination.

Movement out of the corner of his eye caught his attention when he reached the tree line, and he spotted a dark blue fabric on the ground.  Gurgling came from it and he was unsure that he wanted to discover what was under it.  Athelstan crouched down and gently lifted the corner of the fabric.

A scrunched face greeted him, red and frustrated.  It was a tiny baby, a newborn if he had to guess.  Feeling terrible for the poor child, he picked him up, cradling him close to his chest.  The baby curled into Athelstan’s warmth and brought his tiny fist to his mouth, gumming at it.

“Where did you come from little one?” Athelstan whispered to him.  “Where are your parents?”

“Do you like him?”

Athelstan turned to find Helena standing there with them, as if she had been the entire time.  He brought his attention back to the baby, taking in the features.  The baby’s fine hair was dark in color, his nose tiny was slightly upturned, his lips full, his ears small and close to his head.  When the baby calmed enough to glance up at Athelstan, his eyes were a brilliant blue.

He was a mix of them.  He and Helena.  Theirs.

“He’s ours,” he stated, feeling the instant connection and love towards the tiny child.  Athelstan put out his finger and the baby grabbed on with a tight grip.  “He’s strong!”

Helena walked over to them, bending to plant a soft kiss on the baby’s brow.  “He’ll be perfect.”

“He already is,” Athelstan answered, shifting the baby to cover him with his cloak and walking his wife and child out of the woods.

“Then come home to us.”

Athelstan stopped and looked down at her.  He could tell that she absolutely meant what she said but he didn’t understand.  “Am I not already?”

Helena took the baby into her arms; he snuggled into her as if they were one in the same.  “No, you are not.  Rest.  Heal.  And come back to us.”

He was back in his bed, under the furs, Helena’s arm wrapped around him.  She was sleeping as if they had not just discovered their child in the forest.  He lifted the covers to find no child, but her stomach had a soft swell to it. 

Athelstan placed a protective hand on her belly and feel into a deep slumber once more.

 *****

“What happened?” exclaimed Helena as the Vikings carried Athelstan’s unconscious body towards the crowd that gathered on the docks.  She was eager to hold him to her, to feel his solid mass against her own body so that she knew he was alive and had come back to her like he promised.

“He was badly injured in battle,” Arne explained, surprisingly calm and gentle towards her.  “We have done everything that we can and will send for a healer once we have him settled at home.”

Keeping the tears at bay, Helena nodded and followed closely behind, reaching and holding onto Athelstan’s hand as it fell limply at his side.  The trek back to home stretched out before them, and Helena ached to be able to send the men away and just tend to her husband on her own terms.

How could this happen?

Opening the door, she let the men in and watched as they laid Athelstan’s figure down on the bed with what seemed to be the utmost respect.  They tipped their heads to her on their way out and Helena was left with the silence of the fire and their intermingled breathing: hers a rapid pace while his was deep and slow.

She crawled the length of the bed to kneel at his head.  Her hand shook terribly as she reached to brush his long hair out of his face.  His forehead was creased and old sweat lingered at the hairline.  Getting off of the bed as fast as she could manage, she gathered water into a basin and brought it over, cleaning him with the cool water.

“You promised that you would come back to me, Athelstan.”  She spoke of many things while she ran the cloth over his body, but was growing more and more weary by the minutes that passed with no answer from him.  “You have done that.  Now wake up.”

She lifted his shirt to find the wounds and nearly gagged at the sight of them.  The men and women he had traveled with tried to heal them as best as they could but the skin looked harsh and still fresh.  Helena brought the rag up and rinsed it out over each hole, clearing away any dried blood that had caked on.  She dried them gently and immediately, moving on to clean the rest of his body.

Shortly after Helena had finished, the door swung open and Ragnar entered with an older looking man.  She had seen him in town on several occasions but did not know what position he held.  Now that he was in her home she assumed that he was the healer they had spoken of earlier.

“How is he?” Ragnar asked, coming forward.  His words held discouragement and anger, along with worry and fear.

“Unchanged.  I have cleaned him up a bit but nothing.”

The healer came forward, inspecting Athelstan’s wounds before nodding his head and going to work on the herbs that he had brought along in a basket.  Helena and Ragnar stood by as the old man shuffled around the bed.  She couldn’t take the stress any longer and grabbed onto Ragnar’s hand, squeezing it with everything she had.  He didn’t dare look down at her; just held back with a comforting force.

The man turned to Helena and said, “I will need to stay here for some time to be sure that he is healing properly.”

She agreed, saying, “Anything that you need, I will work with you.”

He looked down at her stomach, noticing the slight swell that rose up to meet him.  Turning back to his patient, he covered one wound with a salve of herbs before moving to the other side.  Just as he began with that injury, Athelstan gasped and opened his eyes, hissing at the pain the man caused.

Helena rushed forward, grabbing on to Athelstan’s upper body to hold him down as the healer finished up.  Ragnar was right behind her, just as worried for him as she was.  Once she knew that he wouldn’t attack the stranger poking at his sides, Helena held on to Athelstan’s hand, bringing it up to kiss it.

“Oh Athelstan,” she cried.  “Thank God!”

“What happened?” he asked, looking directly at her and yet unseeing.  “Am I really here?”

“Yes, of course!  You were injured and just made it home.  Ragnar sent for the healer to help you.”  She leaned over and kissed him square on the mouth, wanting him to feel how much she worried for him and how she adored him.  “I love you.”

“Are you real?  Because I’ve dreamt so many times—“

“Yes, I’m real.  And you are home.”

The door opened and in came Lagertha, Bjorn, Gyda, and Ivar.  The three adults heaved as they willed air to reach their lungs, having run over to the house once they had gotten word that Ragnar was there with the healer.

“Is he awake?” Lagertha questioned, coming forward.

“Is he okay?”

“Is he alive?”

“See, you’ve given us quite the scare,” Helena said through her tears.  “Please don’t do it again.”

He attempted to give her a smile but he was in too much pain.  Then it hit him; he was really home and it had been quite some time since he had seen his wife.  He tilted his head to be able to catch sight of her abdomen.  There it was; a small bump popping out from the dress!

“It’s a boy,” he said, overtaken with emotion.  “It’s a boy.”

Helena’s hand automatically went to her belly.  “How did you know?  How do you know?”

Athelstan shook his head.  “I dreamed of you so many times.  You and Gyda and Lagertha.  And you kept saying to come back ‘to us’; Lagertha said to come back to ‘them’.  And then I saw him: the baby.  I saw him!  He’s beautiful and perfect and he’s a strong boy.”

Helena hiccupped with tears of joy.  She felt as the baby did a lazy roll, stretching and pushing at her, and she moved Athelstan’s hand over to feel it.  His eyes lit up and he was able to manage the most wonderful smile, moving his hand on his own accord to follow the baby’s movements.

“My boy,” he whispered.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know I only just posted over the weekend but I wrote this chapter in 2.5 hours and adored it so much that I couldn't wait any longer to get it out to you all! Plus, I'll be really busy on Friday so I figured 'hell, why not?'


	18. Blackbird

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As inspired as I was on the last chapter, this chapter just didn’t want to cooperate! I sat down, tried to write, got up and walked around, tried to write again, screamed into a pillow…you get my point! So I’m sorry for the wait, but I just could NOT figure this out. I pushed through and hopefully will have better luck with the next one. Just need to set things up for later chapters with this one!

_Blackbird singing in the dead of night_   
_Take these broken wings and learn to fly_   
_All your life_   
_You were only waiting for this moment to arise_

_-The Beatles_

 

            Athelstan winced as the healer’s fingers inspected his month old wound, poking and prodding as if he couldn’t hear the young man’s distress.  Athelstan rolled his eyes to the heavens as he clung to Helena’s hand and held his breath on reflex.

            “Here,” Helena said from beside him.  She took the hand she held and put it on her growing belly where the baby was kicking and tumbling freely.  “Breathe, dear.”

            Athelstan relaxed by a fraction, trying to keep his attention on his unborn child.  “He’s so active,” he said with a faint smile.

            “There, that should do it,” the healer said, pulling Athelstan’s tunic back into place.

Helena took a cloth and dabbed at the small drops of perspiration that sat on his brow before handing him a mug.  Athelstan drank heavily before getting enough courage to sit up in the bed.  As she went to stand up, he reached for her hand once more to stop her.

“Please stay here for a little.”  He knew that after he was checked in the mornings, Helena would go do chores and that he would only watch, not able to have much of a conversation until much later in the day.  “I would very much like to spend some time with you and the baby.”

She smiled down at him, brushing some of his hair away.  “Let me get you some breakfast and then I’ll be back.” 

He watched from his viewpoint as she grabbed two bowls of porridge and some bread before coming back and joining him in bed.  They ate in peace, hearing but unable to see as the healer flitted about his established area in the home.  Athelstan placed his bowl on the floor next to the bed, instantly regretting it because of the push and pull he felt on either side of him.

“You need to be more careful; you’ll tear open any sort of progress your body has made,” Helena scolded.  She mirrored his actions, making a small noise as she came back into a sitting position. 

“And you’re reprimanding me?” he joked, rubbing his hand over her belly.  The baby pushed against his father’s hand before going back into the depths of his mother’s body.

“There’s a difference in circumstances!”

“You would like to think so, but you need to be careful as well,” Athelstan replied, moving in to kiss her.  He missed the feel of her, of them.  But these blasted wounds of his!  And he worried for the child, even though Lagertha and Ragnar had made not-so-subtle comments that it had not held them back, if a little less aggressive than usual.

Helena wrapped an arm around his neck, using her free hand to grab his collar and pull him in closer.

“You’re a tease,” he murmured against her lips.  She giggled and he kissed her deeply to quiet her.  As their tongues danced, Athelstan tried to get even closer to her only to find his body protesting against him, and he released her with a huff of frustration.  “I hate that I can’t touch you!  Damn these wounds to the deepest parts of hell!”

Helena looked taken aback for the briefest of moments before letting out a barking laugh.  “Now you’re just being dramatic.”

“Am I?  Don’t you wish for me to be able to do something other than lay on my back all day?”

Helena raised an eyebrow.  “If memory serves me correctly, we tried that before with no complaints.”

Athelstan snapped his attention to look directly at her.  “What are you saying?”

“What do you think?”

“But—but the healer!” he whispered in a panic as her face turned mischievous and she inched closer to him.  Even though he was protesting on the outside, inside he found his heart racing at the thought of being able to be intimate with his wife again.

She ran a finger down the side of his face.  “Personally, I think that he has outstayed his welcome.  As if I couldn’t do his job!”

Athelstan chuckled.  “I like it when you’re feisty.”

Helena smiled up at him before closing the gap, slowly moving to sit on his lap, running her hands over his curls.  As Athelstan leaned into her, feeling the dimples of her spine through her dress, they heard a throat cleared at the foot of the bed, causing them to jump apart.

“I believe that I have done all that I can so I will be returning home.  I have left the supplies that you will need as the wounds continue to heal.”  The old man turned to leave before facing them again.  “I do believe that it would be best for you to start getting outside and going for short walks, Athelstan.”

Helena shared a shocked exchange with Athelstan and, once the closing of the door sounded the healer’s departure, snorted into a fit of laughter.

“Do you think we upset him?  He’s so stoic but he practically told you to get away from me!”

“Who cares if we upset him?  He’s finally gone and I get to have time alone with my wife.”  He left a heated trail of kisses down her neck, lying back and letting her take over.

 

Over several weeks, Athelstan found himself feeling stronger and closer to his old self.  What had once been gaping holes in his sides where now angry red lines.  He couldn’t believe how fortunate he had been; once he had gained consciousness for more than a few minutes at a time, Ragnar informed him that several of their men and women had lost their lives the day of the attack.  Athelstan had felt sorrow for their passing, but he was also thankful that he had been able to get back to Helena and to find out that they were expecting a child come the winter.

Now, as he stood beside her in their smaller garden, he watched as the Lothbrok’s prepared for Ragnar and Bjorn’s departure—the last for the summer.  Athelstan had offered to join them as a courtesy but both men had told him to rest and repair his body for the fall harvest and next summer instead.  He was grateful; he would actually be able to see the birth of his son without worrying about having to survive another voyage.

“There, that should be the last of those,” Helena said as she cleaned the dirt off of her hands.  The weeds had grown outrageously during the time of Athelstan’s healing due to Helena having to keep up with so many other chores.

“Beautiful.  We should have wondrous tomatoes to eat very soon.”

“Hopefully,” she agreed.  “Should we go see off the men?  Or would you rather not?”

Athelstan took a deep breath, noting how the air filled his lungs and the movement stretched his healing skin.  “I believe that I should be up for the walk.”

They held hands as they slowly walked to the docks.  The early September weather was warm but Athelstan knew that shortly before the Vikings would get back from this trip, the air would turn crisp and follow with a blast of coldness that would settle in for several months.  He watched out of the corner of his eye as Helena rubbed her belly, poking on occasion.

“Are you provoking our child?” he asked.

“More like trying to get him to leave my lungs alone!  He’s picked them as his favorite area to kick at.”

Athelstan laughed at her frustration before she shoved him as best as she could.

“You laugh but it hurts!  If only you knew.”

“That would be interesting, wouldn’t it?”

Helena couldn’t help but smile at the thought of him round with child instead of her.  He wrapped an arm around her waist as they continued along, waving to some of the children as they ran down to the docks.

Ragnar and Bjorn were hugging Gyda good-bye as the couple finally got to them.  Lagertha gave them a grin and hurried over, thrusting Ivar into Athelstan’s arms.

“I wanted to be able to talk to you earlier than this but it was sort of a last minute decision.  I’m joining Ragnar and the others on the voyage.  Would you two be willing to keep an eye on Ivar and Gyda while we’re away?  She should be able to stay with him in our house, but as long as she has someone nearby to run to if need be, it would make me feel much easier.”

Athelstan’s mouth gaped at the sudden change of plans so Helena took charge.

“We would be happy to.  I would feel more comfortable if they stay with us, though.  They’ll be fine while you’re away.  Enjoy your time.”

“Thank you for being understanding.  I’m just having a terrible time staying back as Ragnar and Bjorn get to have all of the fun.”  Athelstan saw as the excitement exuded from her, something he had not witnessed since before Ivar’s conception.  Lagertha, though a wonderful and loyal mother, was truly at home when in battle.

“You’re entrusting the future of this land in the hands of a man who can’t see a girl running at him with a spear?  Who nearly bled to death on one of our boats?” Rollo sneered as he approached the family.  Siggy trailed along beside him, smirking at Athelstan as if he was beneath her.  “You better hope that he doesn’t let something bad happen to them as well.”

“Rollo, that’s enough,” warned Lagertha.

“Then again, it’s good practice for that bastard of his on the way, isn’t it?  If he kills Ivar, then he’ll know how not to do it to that whore’s child.”

“ROLLO!” all Lothbrok’s were heard yelling.

Athelstan felt as his blood pulsed with the rush of a raging river in his veins.  His vision became cloudy and darkened around the edges, only allowing Rollo to be seen.  He made a fist with his free hand but when Helena placed her hand on his shoulder, he felt himself become calmer though still thoroughly livid.

“Can’t even defend your supposed wife and child?  Sad, priest, but then again I didn’t really expect much else.”

Helena moved forward from behind Athelstan and he watched as she peered into Rollo’s cold brown eyes, the slant of the hills to her advantage.

“It must be terrible to stand back and watch as a man who is not native to this land progress in ways in which you never will.”  Her voice was calm and steady, and Athelstan noted that he could not, would not, look away.  “We both know that if it were not for him on that trip to Ireland, you would be burnt to a crisp right now.”

Rollo snorted softly but Athelstan could see that she had him right where she wanted him: questioning his abilities. 

“As for insulting an unborn child, do you really have nothing better on Athelstan than the fact that he saved a woman’s life, fell in love, married her, and that they are welcoming a child made from that love?  Maybe it has something to do with the fact that you married your old wife strictly on the grounds that you thought she would bring you power and prosperity.  Unfortunately for you she’s just as washed up as you are, couldn’t manage to help you kill your brother for a taste of ruling over people, and can’t even bare you children to bring forth a legacy.  I’m sure it taunts your mind nightly that you will die old, alone, and forgotten.”

“How dare—“ Siggy attempted to interrupt, but Helena was quick on her feet to lunge at her, their faces mere centimeters away.

“As for you, you scum of the earth, if you so much as look at my child or my husband the wrong way, I will slit your throat before you can breathe your next breath, do you understand me?”

Siggy’s astonishment at the soft-spoken woman’s threat left her speechless, her mouth gaping as if to form words that would not come.  Rollo, who looked utterly confused and past anger, grabbed a hold of her hand and the two stumbled away towards the boats.

“What was that?” gasped Bjorn, looking at Helena as if he had just spotted Frigga herself.

“That is the fierce love that comes with motherhood,” Lagertha smirked.  “I have complete faith that I will come back to two healthy and thriving children.  Though I never doubted it in the first place!”

“Watch yourself, Athelstan,” Ragnar whispered in his ear as he shook hands good-bye.  “I fear that if you say one wrong thing she may kill you in your sleep.”

“Who knew she had all of that bottled up in her?” Athelstan questioned, merely thinking out loud.  Ragnar chuckled and the Lothbrok’s made their way on to the waiting boat.

As the ships set sail for Western lands once more, Athelstan laughed as Ivar waved to his mother with all the enthusiasm a one year old could muster.  He saw as Siggy walked away quickly, considering Helena before passing the vast crowds of people.  Her fear was plastered over her face, and he couldn’t help but smirk at what his wife had accomplished.  Maybe now those two would finally leave them alone.

“Come on, let’s go home,” he said, handing Ivar over to Gyda and starting back up the hill, Helena’s fingers interlaced with his own.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’m sorry if this seems short, but I really did try! So…yeah…Helena. What did you all make of her in this chapter? Like? Not like? I get the feeling that she’s going to be one fierce momma bear!


	19. Spectrum

_And when we first came here_   
_We were cold and we were clear_   
_With no colors in our skin_   
_'Til we let the spectrum in_

_\--Florence + the Machine_

 

Athelstan chuckled at his place on the dirt floor as Ivar picked up his walking pace, attempting to be Helena’s shadow for the day.  His blond hair, now longer and much thicker than when he was only a few months old, blew back behind him as he giggled after her, his arms flung out at his sides.  On a few occasions Helena would accidently back into Ivar or almost step on his small toes, mumbling at him under her breath but unable to denying his sweet face and smile.  She would merely pick him up and place him back with Athelstan, who was supposed to be keeping him preoccupied, and then find him behind her once again.

“Athelstan,” Helena huffed, blowing stray hairs out of her face, “do you think that you could manage to take him outside and keep him busy while I finish the chores in here?  Take Gyda with you and inspect the crops.”

He stood and swung Ivar into his arms, walking over to Helena and giving her a peck on the cheek.  “As you wish, love.”  He turned to the small girl at the table, bent over her work.  “Come on, Gyda.  Some fresh air will do us some good.”

She offered him a gentle smile, putting down her things and joining him as he walked across the threshold into the glorious sunlight.

They walked across the fields, Athelstan holding one of Ivar’s hands while Gyda took the other.  Inspecting the crops as they went, teamwork took over and they found themselves stopping every few feet to check that bugs weren’t taking over and destroying what was growing.  Ivar grew restless and so Athelstan called it quits, offering to take them down by the water to distract the toddler for a little longer.

“Have you and Helena thought of a name yet?” Gyda asked, making a crown of flowers that she had found growing along the trees.

Athelstan struggled to keep Ivar from completely immersing himself in the lake.  “We haven’t discussed it much, actually.”  The little one stopped wiggling away from him once Athelstan agreed to let him splash his feet in the cool waters.  “Why do you ask?”

Gyda shrugged, coming down the embankment to join them.  “I had a dream last night about him.”

He peered up at his old confidant and saw that she gazed back hesitantly.  “And?  Don’t be shy, Gyda.  It’s only me, and I’ve had dreams about him as well.”

She seemed to struggled with the right words.  “He was beautiful.  And so peaceful.  I just sat and held him for the longest time, not even caring that my arms began to ache.  I went to call him by name but all that came out was an ‘f.’”  She paused.  “That is why I wondered if you and Helena had decided; if maybe I had overheard you talking at night and couldn’t remember the name exactly.”

Athelstan stood up, drying Ivar’s soaked feet with the bottom of his tunic.  “I’m sorry, Gyda, but we really haven’t had the chance to talk about it.  We just accept that I dreamt it was a boy and that we believe him to be just that.”  They started back up to the house.  “But I will let Helena know that you’re suggesting something with an ‘f’.”

“Oh don’t mind me.  I’ve been having all sorts of strange dreams!”

“Oh really?  As in what?”

She shrugged again, taking Ivar into her arms as he reached for her.  “I dreamt that I was at Bjorn’s wedding.  Then the next night I had the same dream except that I met my future husband there.  And then there was the one where I dreamt that Mother was pregnant again.”

Athelstan chuckled, throwing an arm around her shoulders.  “It sounds as if you’re full of romanticism right now, Gyda Lothbrok.”

The young woman blushed and turned away, but Athelstan stopped and turned her back to him.  “Gyda, your dreams are dreams, and it’s very nice to stay in them, isn’t it?”

“Sometimes.  Other times are too scary.”

He nodded, understanding exactly what she meant.  “Well, until they start coming true I will believe them to be a problem with your imagination rather than a possible seeing ability.”

“I hope so!  I’ve had terrible dreams ever since Rollo and Siggy were mean to you and Helena before the boats left!”

Athelstan raised an eyebrow.  “Such as?”

“That you and Helena and the baby, though he was walking at that point, were banished from here and returned back to England.”

“England?”

“Yes.  That would be terrible, wouldn’t it?!  Never to see you or Helena again?  I would dread the day!”  She was almost to the point of hysterics, her breath becoming ragged and her eyes wild.

He put his arm back around her, nearing the house.  “Don’t you worry, Gyda.  Everything is fine.  It will take more than your uncle being an arse to get rid of me and Helena.”

 

 “We had heard that you were expecting so I had to come see for myself.”

Athelstan watched as an old friend of Helena’s, Margaret, rubbed her hand across his wife’s belly.  Helena smiled down at her growing child, also placing her hands there as if to protect him.

“He should be here in the early winter.”

“I’m surprised that you took so long to have a child, honestly,” Margaret said with a laugh.  “I remember you as a young girl always talking about wanting to have a large family.  I thought for sure that you would have been expecting right after the wedding ceremony.”

Helena’s bright smile became a ghost on her face.  “Yes.  Well, we cannot argue with God’s timing, can we?”

Margaret shook her head.  “No we cannot.”

Athelstan joined them, hoping to move the conversation over to a new topic.  “So what else brings you here?  I know you didn’t walk all this way from Kattegat to only see if Helena was truly with child.”

“You’re right in that, Athelstan.  I came because…well I don’t know if you realize this, dear one, but they’ve been bringing back young mothers and children with them on their journeys.  These new slaves are struggling and I was wondering if I could have some help with trying to acclimate them to this new world.”

“Athelstan?” Helena questioned.  “Did you know about this?”

He shook his head.  “No, they’ve never brought back any slaves while I was traveling with them.”

“He’s right, dear one.  They’ve only started up again once Athelstan was injured and unable to journey with them.”

“Probably Rollo’s influence,” Helena murmured, though he was able to hear her.

“I don’t think that would be possible to help you, Margaret.  As you can see my wife grows with each passing day, and I cannot take her place due to my wounds and watching over the fields while the Lothbrok’s are away.  Is there no one else who can help you?”

“No, there is no one else.  Any of the other women who came over with Helena and myself are too broken and beaten to be able to get away, and much of the men are being sent with their masters when they go on raids.”  Margaret sighed, knowing that she was alone.  “I just feel terrible for the young ones.  They look so afraid even though many of them came with their mothers.  But many of the ladies have been damaged beyond repair, and the children are essentially alone.”

“What is the purpose of bringing them over?” Helena asked.  Athelstan could see the wheels turning in her mind, the pity for the children taking over any common sense.

Margaret shrugged, fiddling with her shawl.  “I suppose to be able to raise the children in slavery from a young age.  That way they can learn the language early on and know their place in this world.  I would think it would lead to less fighting back as adults.”

Helena nodded, taking in the information.

“Helena,” he warned.  “I also feel terrible for them but we cannot help out right now.”

“But what if—“

“Helena!”

Her face became pointed and she looked sharply back at Margaret.  “Could you please give us a moment alone?”

Margaret agreed, moving away to join Gyda and Ivar.  Helena turned back to Athelstan and grabbed his arm painfully.

“I am your _wife_ not your _slave_ , and it would do you some good to know that if you think you can talk to me as such, I will return the favor.”  She panted as Athelstan took a step back.  “We can’t leave these children to their own devices, not with their mothers dying around them.  I don’t know how we can manage it, but we need to figure out something.”

Athelstan sighed, rubbing his face with his hands.  His mind wondered the way to Kattegat, trying to figure out a way to meet with those in need of them.  Suddenly he remembered; there was an abandoned shack about midway.  With the mothers working as best as they could, and the masters away on raid, he and Gyda could possibly convince the women of the households to let them take the children during the day.  They could explain that the young ones needed to learn the language, and a former slave could teach them how to be a slave themselves.  He could do this, along with teaching them basic fight skills to protect themselves just in case.  And if Helena insisted upon doing this as well, she could ride the mule to the shack and back home.

“I’ve got an idea.”

 

It hadn’t taken much to spruce the place up to a functioning unit.  Some new boards to cover up the holes, fixing nails that stuck out, and adding some chairs and a rug for the children to be able to sit, and they were finished.  Unfortunately, convincing the housewives had been harder than he had reckoned; some agreed after talking to Athelstan, but in most cases they needed to be persuaded by Gyda, as she was the daughter of the former Earl and not the former slave of that same Earl.  Once they had put together the group, Margaret was the one who rounded the children up and brought them to and from the shack while Athelstan and Helena made their way there from their home every morning.  Gyda and Ivar stayed back most days but on occasion would venture with them, Gyda curious to see what was going on behind closed doors.

“It’s cold this morning,” Helena noted after two weeks of teaching.  She was right; the winds were changing and soon the men would be returning from raiding.

“I suppose we won’t have much time left with the children.  I’m sure their masters won’t agree to much more of this; they’re a nervous group, these Norse.”

Helena concurred, looking out into the distance as they neared their destination.  The children came running up to them, faces full of smiles and their hands in the air as if to cling on to Helena as she rode past.  Athelstan would never forget the first day that they had started; the children were gathered outside the door, waiting on them, and once they saw Helena sitting on a mule, expectant, they gazed up at her with awe, calling her ‘Mother Mary.’  He couldn’t help but chuckle at their confusion, good little Christian children that they were.

“Watch yourselves, you don’t want the mule to step on you,” chided Helena, though she couldn’t help but grin at them.

Athelstan helped her down and all the hands either sat on her belly or clung to her dress.  They were so tiny and in desperate need of attention, most now motherless as the days passed.  Athelstan and Helena had become foster parents in a way to most of them, taking in their vastly different personalities and granting as much personal attention as they could to each individual while they had the time.

“Come inside, we have a lot of work to do today,” he announced.

 

Athelstan was out wondering the fields with Gyda when they spotted a large group moving towards the docks.  The two exchanged knowing glances before calling back to Helena, who brought Ivar with her. 

“There you are, my handsome son!” cooed Lagertha as she gathered him from his place in Helena’s arms.  She smothered his chubby cheeks in kisses while he giggled in delight.  “And my beautiful daughter, too.”

Gyda rolled her eyes as her mother kissed her cheek.  “You don’t have to do that.  I know you missed me.”

Lagertha raised an eyebrow at her daughter’s antics but moved back so that Ragnar could greet Gyda as well.

“We have had much luck on this last trip,” he announced with a grin so wide Athelstan thought his face would break in half.  “Lagertha said that you could take a portion of our findings since we had three of us on this journey.”

“Thank you,” Athelstan replied, shaking hands with him and Bjorn.

A rush of brown hair tackled Bjorn, catching him off guard before he righted himself.  He stepped back to see who had felt the need to hug him so fiercely.

“Dalla?”

“I was so worried!  Mother said that the boats were taking longer than usual and I didn’t know if you were hurt or what was going on!” the girl replied, running her hands along Bjorn’s hair and face.

Athelstan had to hold back his laughter as Lagertha, Gyda, and Helena exchanged confused looks.  Ragnar, who didn’t quite understand what was going on either, kept his facial profile to that of pride.

“Bjorn?” Lagertha questioned.

The young man snapped his attention to his family, growing red from the neck up.  Dalla looked embarrassed as well, forgetting that they were surrounded by family.

“I’m sorry, I’ll be going,” she mumbled, turning away.

“No, it’s fine,” Bjorn insisted, taking her hand in his.  She looked surprised but took a stance beside him.  “Mother, Father, this is Dalla.”

There was hesitation on the part of the elder Lothbrok’s, coming to an understanding by the tone in their son’s voice.

“Dalla?  It’s a pleasure to meet you,” Lagertha offered, shaking hands with the girl.

“It’s nice to meet you, too.”

“Please, come to the house whenever you can,” Ragnar added, his cocky smirk set in place.

“Thank you.”  Dalla stood on her toes, leaving a kiss on Bjorn’s cheek.  “I’ll see you tomorrow?”

Bjorn agreed, letting her walk back to her family to welcome her father.  Ragnar and Lagertha exchanged looks as Dalla walked away. 

“Athelstan and Helena have been teaching the children slaves Norse and how to be proper slaves while you were away,” Gyda blurted, wanting to move the attention away from her brother.

Ragnar took Ivar, throwing the little one into the air and catching him before moving towards the house.  “It seems, Lagertha, that our family has been up to all sorts behind our backs.”

“So it seems,” she agreed.  “I suppose it’s only fair since we have done the same.”

“Mother?” questioned Gyda.

Lagertha smiled at her.  “Your father and I have discovered that I am with child again.”

Gyda’s small gasp was only heard by Athelstan, who turned to her.  Had Gyda somehow known there was a difference in her mother before the departure?  Or was she now seeing into the future?


	20. What a Wonderful World

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I’ll start up again with the weekly updates, probably every Wednesday because I’m usually off those days this semester. I have most of the rest of the story written, so it’s just editing and posting but I have yet to get a set schedule (I don’t know when I will have to go in for practicum clinical hours) so that’s the problem right now. Last semester! :D I can’t thank you all enough for your continued support and to those of you who also make sure to write a review because you make my day! Please continue to do so because I’m sure I can use all the happiness I can get with the upcoming stress. Hope you all enjoy this chapter…a baby! Yay!

_I hear babies cry, I watch them grow,_   
_They'll learn much more,_   
_Than I'll ever know._   
_And I think to myself,_   
_What a wonderful world_

_\--Louis Armstrong_

 

The summer sun gave way to the fall chill and finally to the winter winds.  With another successful, albeit stressful, harvest under their belts, the Vikings settled into their homes for what would turn out to be one of the harshest winters in recent memory.  In the past friends and neighbors would be able to visit one another until the new year brought the dense snow and the clouds seemed to hover just mere feet above the ground.  But with this year, the blizzards started almost immediately and the villagers were thankful that the gods allowed them to get through harvesting before bestowing such a ghastly beast upon them.

Athelstan hummed as he stirred the pot of stew, enjoying the wondrous smell that wisped up into his awaiting nose.  He snuck a look in at Helena who was sleeping away, her arm snug around her abdomen.  She had awoken each morning that week complaining that she felt under the weather and would rather stay in bed.  With her so close to delivering and with nothing to do outside, Athelstan complied and went about doing the house chores.

The gusts of mid-December pounded against the door, rattling the lock and threatening to burst through.  He was thankful for a well-built home and the shelter that protected them from these harassing storms.  A groan from the bedroom signaled his attention, and he crept into the room to see what was happening.

“Are you alright, Helena?” he whispered, not wanting to disturb her if it was just her talking in her sleep.

“No,” she moaned.  She half-turned over to look at him, and he saw that she was sweating and her face was bright red.  “I think I’m in labor.”

Athelstan’s heart skipped several beats before correcting itself into a terrible race.  “What?”

Helena groaned again, grabbing at her belly.  “You need to get help,” she panted.

He went to her side, instinctually placing a hand on the swollen area and noticing that it was hard.  He blinked with wonder.  “I can’t leave you.”

Her contraction passed and she gave him a weak smile.  “You have to.  At least go to Lagertha and inform her that I’m going to have the baby.  She can send Gyda or Ragnar for the midwife.”

Athelstan gulped.  He knew that she was due at any moment but it didn’t make this any less frightening.  “Okay.  I’ll be back as soon as I can.”  He kissed her brow and threw his cloak and boots on.

The freezing wind smacked his face, taking all breath he had away.  His feet sunk into the snow, now several inches deep.  Pulling the cloak shut he began his trek across what had been dry fields just the other day and, once reaching his destination, burst through the Lothbrok’s door, slamming it shut behind him.  The family looked surprised to see him, and he couldn’t blame them; who would want to be out in this weather?  Only his child would do this to him.

“Helena is going to have the baby,” he announced, teeth chattering violently.  He wished that he could sound more excited but his body shook so hard that it took everything that he had to be able to breathe properly.

Lagertha jumped up from her seat and dressed for the weather.  “Gyda, come with me.  Ragnar, I need you to fetch the midwife.  Bjorn, get you and your brother dressed and meet us at the house.”

There was a flurry of movement before Athelstan was being pulled back into the depths of the bitter cold and moving towards his home.  Gyda beamed up at him, taking his free hand in hers as they walked as quickly as they could.  Her presence was soothing and he felt more at ease as they entered the home.  The peace passed as soon as it came, though, when they were greeted with escalating groans.

Athelstan took off his cloak and threw it into the corner, running over to the bed where Helena was on all fours, rocking back and forth.  It was almost animalistic the sight and sounds she made, and he had to take a step back.

“Helena?” Lagertha greeted, worming her way around Athelstan and sitting on the bed. 

Helena put up a hand, breathing harshly through her nose and mouth.  Shortly after, she collapsed on the bed, peering at Lagertha through the sheet of hair that covered her face.

“The pains started last night but I thought that they were just like the practice ones.  Early this morning they really started up and now they’re every few minutes with the pain worsening steadily.”

Lagertha nodded at the information given.  It helped that Helena had so much experience with bringing babies in to the world and Lagertha’s several births that they both understood the progression of labor.  “Gyda, get me some warm water and fresh cloths please.”

“Is there anything that I can do?” Athelstan asked, coming to Helena’s side and taking her hand.  She squeezed back with force.

“No, love,” she smiled.  “I just need you to let me do what my body tells me to.”

“Once Ragnar comes with the midwife we will have all of the men gather outside of the room.  Your job is to just stay calm until we tell you to come back in,” Lagertha instructed him.  Her tone was gentle and her grin understanding.

Athelstan placed a kiss on Helena’s hand, her knuckles white as another contraction hit.

“They are coming fast,” Lagertha noted, and Athelstan heard the worry in her voice.

“What’s wrong?” he asked, becoming more alert.

“It’s fine.  If I deliver before she gets here, I can instruct Gyda what to do.  She’s helped me before, and you’ve delivered enough children yourself, Lagertha,” Helena replied after the contraction ended.

The door burst open and Athelstan went to it, praying that it was Ragnar.  Instead he found Bjorn with Ivar bundled close to him under several blankets.

“Don’t worry,” he said, unwrapping Ivar, “Father is right behind me.  He had to carry the midwife; she didn’t want to come out in this weather!”

“I can’t blame her,” Helena mumbled from the bed.

Ragnar presented his gift shortly after, grinning from ear to ear.  “This goes to show you that you should listen when I say ‘come,’ woman.”

The older lady scoffed.  “Young heathens.  The girl was a midwife back in England; how could she not deliver her own child?  Asking an old woman to come out in snow such as this!”

“It’s much different on this side,” Helena called out before another contraction hit.

Athelstan guided the midwife to the bedroom before taking his place by his wife.  He kissed her and said, “I love you.”

“I love you, too,” she panted back.

“I need you out of here young man.”

He nodded to the older woman and sent a glance to Lagertha. _‘Help her through this, please.’_   Lagertha acknowledged him and put up a divider to give Helena some privacy from the men gathered in the common area.

Though it had seemed as if Helena were going to give birth soon after the midwife arrived, Athelstan found himself pacing the floor, careful not to trip over Ivar who made it his pastime to re-inspect the home.  Helena’s cries of agony tore through him, and he begged and pleaded and prayed to God to deliver her of the baby soon. 

“You need to stay calm, priest,” Ragnar murmured from his seat at the table.  He cut off a tiny piece of cheese and handed it over to Ivar.

“How have you done this so many times?”

Ragnar’s amusement rumbled through his chest.  “I was worried sick when Lagertha gave birth to Bjorn!  But after that it seemed old hat; I had all the faith in her.”

“Yes, well, this _is_ my firstborn so please excuse me while I worry sick over here.”

Ivar walked over to Athelstan and patted his leg as if trying to console the man.  Athelstan gave a half smile, picking up the toddler.

“I can always count on you to try to make me feel better.”

“Helena, it’s time to push,” he overheard from the bedroom, his heart taking another leap and pound.

“Or maybe not,” he said, putting the child down and sitting with his head between his knees.

“Remember when Helena first tried to buy something from the market and the woman yelled at her because her Norse was so bad that she thought she was stealing from her?” Bjorn said, laughing while he spoke.

Athelstan was confused as to why he would have brought that up, but he found himself grinning at the memory.  It had taken quite the persuasion by not only Athelstan but also Ragnar that no, Helena was asking for a price to buy the cloth, not that she was trying to distract the woman while she stole it.

“Or the time when she got so angry at Floki for making a joke about your God that she dumped an entire bucket of mead on his head,” Ragnar added.  “He was so mad that she wasted it.”

All three men burst into laughter and Athelstan, not recognizing it at the time, was thankful for the distraction.  While they brought up some of their favorite memories of Helena since her arrival to the land, she pushed and grunted and heaved as much of her body into delivering her child.

A squealing cry rang out, cutting off the men and quieting the entirety of the house.  Even little Ivar stopped in his tracks and looked towards the noise.  Athelstan stood with a start, caught between running into the room and running into the cold.  Ragnar glanced up at him, glee in his eyes.  There was a hesitation, muffling of the baby, and then the barrier opened up.

“You can come in now, Athelstan,” Gyda informed, her eyes twinkling with excitement.

His feet moved without his command, his body taking over where he couldn’t think straight.  Helena was propped up and in her arms a blanket.  It was quiet as he walked over to the bed and nervously sat next to her.

She looked up from the blanket, tears in her eyes.  He wiped them away for her.  Her face was damp and her nightgown clung to her body.

“You have a son, Athelstan.”

She leaned forward some, moving the side of the blanket out of the way so that he could see the tiny person that they had created.  There was a tuft of dark hair and a tiny fist unclenched, revealing five perfect fingers and long nails.

“Here, hold him,” she offered, maneuvering just so that Athelstan could take him easily from her arms.

The baby’s face was still covered in a smattering of blood and some white substance Athelstan did not know of.  They had hastily tried to clean him but he would need a proper bath later.  The little one wiggled and made a small snort of dislike as Athelstan tried to figure out the best way to hold him.  Once settled, he took in the features: the upturned nose, the pouted lips, his tiny ears.  He was exactly as Athelstan had dreamed.

“He’s perfect,” he whispered, watching with wonder as the baby grasped his finger.

“A fine son, indeed,” agreed Ragnar as the rest of the Lothbrok’s entered the room.  “Congratulations, priest.”

“Thank you,” Athelstan replied, unable to turn away from his son.

“We’ll be back as soon,” Lagertha said.  “If you need anything, please send Athelstan and I’ll come as quick as I can.”

“Thank you all for your help,” Helena replied, her voice showing her exhaustion. 

“Would it be alright if I just came to visit anyway?” asked Gyda, looking upset over having to leave.

Athelstan grinned as Helena giggled, softened with the entrance into motherhood.

“Of course you can, so long as the weather cooperates,” she answered.

The baby opened his eyes and inspected the room, landing on Athelstan’s face.  The two spent time gazing at one another, trying to take the details of the other in.

“Hello.  I’m your father,” he greeted, not knowing what else to say to such a tiny person.  “Welcome to the world.”

“He needs to be fed,” the midwife interrupted.  “Better to give him back to his mother and then hold him once he’s full and has been burped.”

Athelstan complied, settling him into Helena’s arms.  He took an awkward step back as the midwife instructed Helena how to rearrange things so that the baby would take better to her breast.  After some frustration and near crying, Helena finally got the baby to latch and sat back as he fed on what little she had to offer at the moment.

“I’ll need to stay the night to be sure that everything is going smoothly,” the midwife explained.

Athelstan agreed.  “I’ll set you up a place and get you some stew from the pot.”

 

“What should we name him?” Helena asked as they watched the baby feed for a second time.

He had been cleansed of the products of birth, and Athelstan freely ran his hand over the baby’s fine hair.  “How is it that we went without discussing this the entire time of your pregnancy?”

Helena laughed.  “I think it had something to do with you trying to heal for a good bit of it.”

Athelstan shrugged, at a loss for any name.  “I hadn’t really thought of it.  Well, Gyda had brought it up while she was staying with us, but even then I couldn’t think of a name.”

“What about…Finn?”

“Finn?”

Helena hummed, taking the baby from her breast and handing him over to Athelstan.  “Yes, I heard it one time in the market and I liked it.”

The baby cuddled into Athelstan’s warmth as he patted his back.

“I think Finn is a fine name,” the midwife called from the table as she ate her dinner.

The couple snickered at the input.  Athelstan pulled the baby away from his chest and looked down at him, the little one in a content sleep.

“Finn,” he said, testing it out.  “I think it’s perfect.”


	21. Winter Winds

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let me start off by saying that, as a nurse, I do NOT condone co-sleeping with your baby! But as they did not know what we know these days, and I know what exhaustion can do to a parent, I understand that this was considered perfectly normal then. So please…no hate towards me for writing that scene in! Thank you all for understanding (even if you do have children of your own and DO believe in co-sleeping; not starting an argument here!)

_We'll be washed and buried one day my girl_   
_And the time we were given will be left for the world_

_The flesh that lived and loved will be eaten by plague_   
_So let the memories be good for those who stay_

_-Mumford and Sons_

 

            Athelstan rocked back and forth, a motion that he was not fully aware of because he was dead tired on his feet.  His eyelids felt as if two anchors had been attached to them and his legs ached as if they had just been through ten raids back-to-back.  He begged for Finn to stop gurgling in his arms and to just fall asleep so that he could join Helena, already comfortable in bed and lost to the dream world.

            The fire crackled and spit in the hearth, and its warmth made his drowsiness all the more present.  Athelstan heard as Finn suckled on his fingers, the noise resembling that of a piglet while feeding.  The thought made him let out a small giggle, and it was then that Athelstan was keenly aware that his sleep deprivation was getting to be too much.

Feeling tiny fingers scratching at his beard, Athelstan pried his eyes open to find Finn staring up at him, studying his father as he liked to do with all things that were involved in his tiny world.  Athelstan smiled down at the curious blue-eyed baby, never able to stay frustrated for very long.  Finn cooed and grinned back, snuggling into Athelstan’s chest and rubbing his red nose into the shirt’s soft material.

In the three months since his birth, Athelstan watched in wonder as his son went from a scrawny, almost alien-like newborn that ate, slept, and pooped his days away to an adorable, inquisitive little thing, his body starting to chunk up and his smiles due to pleasure instead of gas.  It was amazing, he would find himself thinking, that two people could make such a wonderment of nature.  He adored Finn; loved to wake up to his babbling every morning and snuggling him to sleep every night.

What Athelstan didn’t adore, though, was the stuffy nose that Finn was suffering from at the moment, unprotected from the winter cold outside of his mother’s womb.  Normally an easy-going child, he was up fussing all of the time.  It drove him and Helena insane that they couldn’t find a way to help the baby.  They decided to take turns as to who would be awake with Finn and who got a chance to rest some so that they could keep their wits about them.  Athelstan couldn’t pray hard enough as the days passed for the baby to get better and for spring weather to finally visit again.

He felt as Finn’s body began to relax and the little snores began into his chest.  Athelstan waited several beats before making a move towards the bed, taking every inch to sit on it painstakingly slow so as not to startle the baby awake.  Lying down, he kept Finn on his chest, not wanting to take any chances quite yet; he was easily awoken because of the sickness and Athelstan couldn’t stand much longer on his screaming feet.  He pulled his legs up, bending the knees and taking the ache out of them, the sweet relief filling his entire body.  Within moments he was asleep.

Athelstan woke as he felt a hand slip into his.  Turning his head, he saw that Helena was awake and smiling at him in contentment.

“What?” he asked, his voice groggy.  His legs had fallen to either side at some point but overall he was in the same position he had fallen asleep in, Finn still out cold.

“I wish that I could draw so that I could keep this picture in front of me forever,” she whispered.

“You would need paper first.”

She breathed her laughter, trying not to wake the baby.  Athelstan grinned at her, loving that, even though they could barely catch a moment alone these days, when they did it was as if no time had passed.  Her features seemed to have softened since becoming a mother but Helena was still the same beauty that he had fallen in love with.  He didn’t think he could love her more and yet with every passing day he found something new that reminded him how wonderful she was in his eyes.  Watching her care for his child, cradling and singing him old lullabies, was just the icing on the cake.

“Do you want me to take him?” she offered, leaning on an elbow.  Her hair looked especially red in the firelight.

Athelstan shook his head.  “I’m afraid you wouldn’t be able to get him back to sleep for hours then.  It’s best just to let him go until he’s ready to wake up on his own.”

Helena agreed, moving over to him to rest her head on his shoulder.  As Athelstan took a deep sigh, Finn startled for a half of a second before taking a fistful of shirt and cuddling in to his father’s warmth.

“Thank God,” Athelstan breathed.  Helena smiled and squeezed his hand before all three settled into back into their dreams.

 

“When are you going to take him out?” Gyda asked, playing with Finn on her lap.  She had made it a habit to visit as often as the weather permitted; some days were one right after the other, and other visits could be as long as biweekly.  Luckily it seemed as if spring were showing her first signs and the harsh winter leaving for good.

“When we know for sure that the days are getting warmer,” Helena answered.  She had just returned from the outside where she had been washing up some laundry of theirs, as well as Lagertha and Ragnar’s sheets.  The former had just given birth the prior day and Gyda had been having a terrible time of trying to get the afterbirth out of the material.

“He’ll have all of the spring planting and summer chores as well as fall harvest to enjoy the outdoors.  We want to be sure that his cold doesn’t come back,” Athelstan explained, helping Helena fold the clothes that were already dry so that she could hang more up.

“How are your mother and the baby doing?” Helena asked.  She was upset to have missed the birth, wishing that she could have been there to help but Lagertha had insisted that the old midwife who had delivered Finn was fine and that Helena could stay home with her recovering child.

“Good, I think.  She had a much easier time with Sigurd than she did with Ivar, so that was a blessing.”

Athelstan and Helena nodded.  “We will have to visit soon.  Send them our love and let her know that I did my best with the sheets.”

“I think Father will just appreciate them being clean; stains are not a problem.  I just don’t have the talent for washing them as good as you do.”

Helena giggled.  “I don’t think it’s talent so much as practice.”  She took the folded sheets, still slightly damp, from Athelstan’s hands and set them on the table next to Gyda.  “Can I get you something to eat before I send you back?”

“No, I should make everyone something to eat at home.”  She stood, showering Finn’s cheeks in kisses.  He squealed in delight from the attention of his other favorite person.  “But please come visit soon.  I think I may go crazy from all of us cooped up in the house along with a newborn!”

Athelstan kissed the crown of her head and finished it off with a loving hug.  “Your parents are very grateful for you, Gyda.  We are, too.  We’ll visit at the end of the week if the weather allows it.”

Gyda nodded, hugging Helena and Finn good-bye before gathering up the sheets and leaving.

“I feel terrible that she’s the only one capable of doing anything.  Ragnar and Bjorn aren’t much help, and Lagertha will be down for some time.”

“She’ll be fine,” Athelstan insisted.  “She’s done this before and Gyda’s tougher than she lets on.”

 

“So another son?” greeted Athelstan as he stood at the threshold of the Lothbrok home.  He and Ragnar shook hands, the new father beaming his pride before letting them in.

“The seer foretold of many sons for me, and here we are!  Would you like some ale?  Gyda, get Athelstan some ale for me!”

“Can’t you get the ale yourself?” Helena scoffed before heading back to see Lagertha.

“She has a point, Ragnar,” Lagertha spoke.  “You have been running poor Gyda ragged these past few days.”

“It’s fine, Father,” Gyda insisted, bringing the jug of ale over to the table.

“No, your mother is right.  I am sorry.  Thank you for your help,” Ragnar said, kissing his daughter’s head and taking the jug from her and pouring Athelstan a cup himself.

“Congratulations, Lagertha,” Athelstan heard Helena say from the bedroom.  “He’s a handsome boy.”

“Thank you.  And Finn, you’ve grown so since I last saw you!”

“Yes, he’s become quite the wonderer if you let him go for one second.  He can be on Athelstan’s side of the bed one moment and the next I find him on my side!”

Lagertha gave a soft laugh.  “They grow so fast.”

“Yes, they do,” Ragnar agreed from the kitchen.  “Priest, did you hear the good news?  Our Bjorn is a betrothed man.”

“Bjorn?” Athelstan asked, unable to believe his ears.  He knew of Dalla and their budding romance, but wasn’t this the boy who just yesterday threatened to sacrifice him to the gods for his father’s safe return from battle?

The young man’s face reddened at the attention.  “Dalla and I have talked about marriage and I know that she will make a good wife.  Her father has agreed to the arrangement.  We are to marry after the  
harvest this year.”

“Well, you _are_ seventeen.  I just forget how many years have passed since I first came here.  Congratulations to you and Dalla.”  He shook hands with the young man.

“Thank you.”

“It’s about time we get one of you older ones out of this house to make room for all these young ones,” joked Ragnar, wiggling his eyes at Gyda.

“It looks as if he will have darker hair like his father,” Helena said to Lagertha, running her fingers over the downy locks.

“Yes, he looks just as Bjorn did as a baby but with Gyda’s hair color; a perfect resemblance to Ragnar.  He and Ivar could be twins if it were not for the age gap and Ivar having my lighter blond locks.”

“We should be leaving soon for Ireland,” Ragnar announced, clapping his hand on Athelstan’s shoulder.  “You are joining us, aren’t you?”

Athelstan swallowed the immediate lump that formed in his throat.  Glancing over to Helena and Finn, the baby smiled at him, gnawing on his tiny fist.  Athelstan gave a weak smile back.  “I suppose I have to,” he answered, gulping the last of his ale.

“Just remember, we are doing this for them.  How else would they survive?”

Athelstan nodded but did not fully agree in his heart.

“We will begin plowing and planting next week.  I will have you plant while Bjorn and I plow.  We don’t need you overexerting yourself too soon.”

“Hmm.”

“Gyda, do you need anything before we go?” Helena asked, coming out from the bedroom, rubbing a reassuring hand on the girl’s back.

“No, thank you.  I think we’re fine for now.”

“If anything changes you know to come to us.  We’ll be going so that your mother can get some rest but we’ll see you next week.”

Athelstan stood and Ragnar led them to the door.  He shook Athelstan’s hand once more, saying, “I’m glad that our sons can grow together.”

“As am I,” he replied, taken aback at first.  They waved and headed back towards home.  As they walked along the fields, Athelstan inspected the ground beneath them, taking in any information he could gather from it.  The grass was coming in lush and the dirt was soft from the early April rains.  He bent down to feel it between his fingers, causing Helena to stop in her tracks.  The land would be fertile and the harvest should be plenty; maybe he could stay home from raiding next summer.  Finn gurgled in Helena’s arms, grabbing at the air for Athelstan.

“Would you like to feel, too?” he asked, taking the baby and placing him feet first on the ground.  For a brief second Finn seemed to enjoy the coolness of the ground on his bare feet before bending his knees and curling his toes, making a face that he was unsure about such a sensation.  Helena and Athelstan laughed, enjoying the world as they had forgotten how to see it: brand new, through a child’s eyes.

Athelstan put his arm around Finn’s middle and the other under his legs, bending forward so that the little one could touch the grass with his hands instead.  Finn swished his fingers through the blades, cooing as he did so, enjoying this way much better.  After some time, Athelstan’s body protested from the angle he was at and so he stood, placing Finn on his hip and taking Helena’s hand to walk the rest of the way home.

“Oh Finn,” he whispered into his son’s ear, “You’ve made me the luckiest man in the world.” 

 


	22. Timshel

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I almost forgot to post this today! I’ve been so busy with school work that I barely remember to eat; it’s okay if I let my stomach down, but letting my readers down is another matter!

_Cold is the water_   
_It freezes your already cold mind_

_And you are not alone in this_   
_As brothers we will stand and we'll hold your hand_

_\--Mumford and Sons_

 

 

Athelstan felt the ache of leaving so much more than any time prior to today.  He held Finn as the baby wiggled in his arms, watching intently as the crowds gathered around the docking, his fingers playing a melody along Athelstan’s sleeves.

“We’ll be fine, and you’ll come back to us soon enough,” Helena tried to console but he could hear the worry that she tried to hide in her voice.

“I just hate to miss anything.  He’s growing so fast.”  Athelstan shifted the baby to sit higher on his torso, kissing at Finn’s hairline.  The silky smooth locks tickled Athelstan’s nose before Finn moved away, replacing his hands at his father’s mouth.  He giggled as Athelstan pretended to nibble on the fingers that searched.

While Ragnar, Bjorn, and Athelstan had tended to the fields just the day before, Helena and Gyda prepared the barn for stocking.  Even though Finn had already learned to roll over, his parents hadn’t been concerned to let him lie in the grass near Helena while she worked.  Unfortunately for Helena’s heart, he had decided that his curiosity was just too much to sit still and went about crawling at that moment, making his way over to Athelstan and the heavy equipment that was being used by Ragnar.   Athelstan spotted movement out of the corner of his eye and scooped up the baby just before he could be harmed.

“Finn?  FINN?!” Helena had screamed, running around to find her missing child.

“He’s over here,” Athelstan called back, smiling down at the baby.

Helena clutched at her chest.  “Athelstan, you could at least tell me that you’re going to take him so that I don’t panic next time.  Honestly!”

“I didn’t,” he chuckled.  “He crawled over.”

“What?” she had questioned, disbelieving what her husband claimed.

“He’s quick for his age.  Smart child.”

Athelstan’s grin widened at Ragnar’s words.  “That’s my boy.”

But now as he faced weeks at sea, Athelstan didn’t want Finn to progress, wishing he could stop time here while he did what he needed to do and get back to them.  He took in the image of his son looking up into the depths of the trees, a small droplet of drool threatening to drop from his mouth at any moment.  Finn loved to listen to the songs of the birds, always trying to spot them as they drew his attention in.  A butterfly came to hover by them and Athelstan put out a finger to invite it to sit and rest.  He brought it into Finn’s view very slowly so as not to disturb the insect, and the baby went cross-eyed to check out the foreign creature.  Athelstan chuckled at the scene until Finn began to pout as the butterfly fled from his wondering fingers.

“It’s alright, Finn.  All of God’s creatures are meant to be free to do their bidding in life.  Butterflies start out as caterpillars; their destiny is to change and fly, sharing their beauty with the world.”

Finn stopped his quivering lip, instead rubbing his eyes and snuggling into Athelstan’s chest.  He didn’t think it possible, but Athelstan’s heart broke a little more.

“I love you more than anything,” he murmured into the boy’s ear, giving more kisses before reluctantly passing him over to Helena.  She took him with a broken smile.

“He’s getting tired,” she said, hesitating with words that he knew lingered on her tongue.

Athelstan barraged her mouth with lingering kisses, one after another, avoiding the departure.  He moved to her cheek, her ear, and her neck, staying at the crook where her neck and shoulder met.

“You have to come back,” Helena mumbled, holding his head in place.  “It’s not just me this time.”

“I know,” he answered, the words muffled from her skin.

She gently pushed him away.  “And I mean alive.”  Her tone was lighter and joking.  “I’ll have to know that I plan to get Dalla to keep Finn for a day so that it’s just me and you.”

“Dalla?”

“Yes, well she needs to practice before the big day.  And,” she added, pulling on his collar to bring him close again, “we need some much needed alone time.  Don’t you think?”

Athelstan groaned his agreement, kissing her with even more passion.   “You’re making this more difficult,” he said against her lips.  “I love you.  Both of you.  And I’ll be back before you know it.”

“I think I’ll notice but please do,” Helena laughed, letting go of him.

“Finn will keep you on your toes, I assure you.  I’ll see you soon,” he said as he walked backwards to the docks, afraid to lose sight of them.

“I love you.”

He placed his hand on his chest, daring to turn and load on to the boat.

“You’re struggling more than usual, priest,” said Bjorn as Athelstan sat down, looking back to the hills to spot his wife and child.

“When you’re a father, Bjorn, you’ll understand.”

“Aye,” agreed Erik.  “It gets easier with time, but those first few are the toughest.  That’s your flesh and blood walking around; how do you leave that unprotected while you’re away?”

Many of the men on the vessel agreed, and Athelstan was surprised to find them acknowledging their love for their children so openly.  He knew that the Vikings were family oriented, but he had always viewed them as tough and cold when it came to leaving their homes to raid the open seas, even after all these years of living with them.

“It’s good to have you back with us, Athelstan,” Arne offered up.  “And I heard about your son.  Congratulations.”

Athelstan blinked, unsure of how to take the man but accepting the olive branch that was offered up.  “Thank you, Arne..”

The anchors were brought up, seaweed hanging and water dripping from it.  Athelstan’s heart lurched along with the boat as they set off.  He caught sight of Helena waving to him, Finn fast asleep on her chest.  He motioned back before taking his oar in hand and rowing to the West, leaving his heart behind.

 

The fog lifted and the seagulls sounded the Vikings’ arrival to the cliffs of Ireland.  The men gathered their belongings once the ships were settled and began their journey up the hills and into the dense greenery of the land.  Athelstan could tell he had been out of commission for some time as the weight of his bag and the climb up the shore made him tired; something that hadn’t happened since the beginning of his raiding days. 

Bjorn patted his shoulder.  “Are you alright, priest?”

Athelstan afforded him a smile. “Yes, I’ll be fine.  Thank you.”

The young man nodded and inched ahead of him, making Athelstan feel older than his years.  The group walked through the woods, making progress and passing towns on the outskirts.  Athelstan was confused as to why they weren’t stopping and raiding those around them.

“We’ve already make our way through these,” explained Arne.  “There’s nothing left.”

Athelstan nodded and they continued on.  He listened to the sounds of the birds high in the sky, up above the tall trees.  Their song was that of beauty and it made peace within Athelstan’s soul as he was reminded of his young child.  He was grateful, though, for making camp that evening; his body went limp as soon as he lay down.

Morning came too soon, but glorious it was.  Until the rains came.  Even though the Vikings were shielded by the dense forest, somehow the precipitation made its way down to them, drenching them from head to toe.  Surprisingly, Athelstan did not find himself shivering; the weather was warm and the water felt good.

After walking for some time, Ragnar held up his hand and the group came to a stop.  Athelstan looked to the East and saw that a new town sat right in their path.  So this was going to be his do over?  Because, Athelstan thought, he would do what he had to for the sake of Helena and Finn’s survival.  And he knew that his old self would have been horrified and disgusted at the prospect, but he would not let his son grow up without him or have them die from starvation.

As they had so many times before, the men stood outside of the gates, waiting for their chance to let out some steam and get rich off of it at the same time.

“Just remember, Bjorn,” Ragnar said before pounded down the wooden barrier, “whatever you grab today is what is paying for your wedding.”

The others chuckled as Bjorn rolled his eyes at his father.  With a throw of his axe and a burst of men, they entered the town only to find it eerily quiet.  They stopped dead in their tracks, confused and becoming slightly scared.

“It is not Sunday,” Rollo said as if to confirm what they were all thinking.  “So why am I not seeing or hearing anyone?”

“Spread out,” Ragnar ordered.  They did as they were told, going in short groups of two and three men to inspect every corner of the place.  They knocked down doors and checked under furniture but alas no one could be found.

“Let’s see if they’re at their beloved church anyway,” Floki suggested, an evil grin on his thin face.

“Why don’t we just grab everything and go?” Athelstan countered, not understanding why no one had thought of that before.

“Because I need to slice someone open,” one of the others growled.  “My wife is driving me insane and I need sweet relief.”

Athelstan grimaced at the harshness of the man, instead taking his bag and filling it with goods from the nearest home.  He spotted Bjorn doing the same, and Arne joining in.  Most others agreed with Athelstan and began filling their bags, but there were still a few that decided to join Floki and Rollo on their way to the town church.

As he finished filling the two bags that he had brought, Athelstan heard a strange noise from his right side.  It was unlike anything that he had heard previously, and so he turned slowly, taking in the scenery as he did so.  A blank canvas of a wall, a walkway between the two houses, a barrel full of rain water…but there was that sound again!  What could it be?  He began to slowly walk to the back of the houses.

“Where are you going?” Arne asked, watching as Athelstan attempted to be stealthy.  The latter man held a finger up, signaling him to be quiet.  Instead, Arne followed close by, now noticing the noise as well.

Just as Athelstan was about to round the corner, a pair of hands swung a sword at him, causing him to fall backwards onto the mud.  Another man came out and attacked Arne, both men caught up in fighting one another that Athelstan was forced to fight the behemoth of a man who had swung at him by himself.

Gaining his bearings, Athelstan picked up his sword and lunged at the man who in turn jumped to the side and blocked his shot.  He growled and aimed for Athelstan’s head, lifting an axe that appeared out of nowhere high above his head and sending it crashing down.  Luckily Athelstan’s feet were quicker than the other’s arm and he dodged the weapon.  Ten more men appeared, along with some women, and Athelstan and Arne had enough of a chance to glimpse at one another.

“RAGNAR!” Athelstan bellowed.  In the distance he could hear footsteps stomping in the muck as they made their way over to the battling group. 

Athelstan attempted to fight off two men at once, but their strength outnumbered his.  Thankfully his fellow men arrived in time to take over, less fatigued than he was and able to slice the bellies of their enemies quite quickly.

However, the large man who had attacked first had a vendetta against his opponent, and Athelstan saw as he ran back to him, a cackle on his tongue and a gleam in his eye.  He couldn’t do this, wouldn’t do this.

_“Remember, if you are smaller then they will fall harder.  Just aim for the back of his ankles if you can and you will defeat him easily.”_

Helena’s words, a memory from long ago when he had just been learning to fight rang in his ears and it was now his turn to give a smirk, knowing that he had the upper hand.  As the man prepared to swing, Athelstan dropped to his knees, lying on the ground and covering himself in mud the entire length of his body.  The other man was confused and, as he drove past Athelstan, glanced back only to see as his opponent slice both Achilles tendons in one fell swoop.  Down he went, shaking the ground as he hit.  Athelstan rose back up quickly, taking his weapon and plunging it into the man’s back, hitting the heart, which stopped immediately.  Not pleased enough he grabbed his sword and cut the man’s head right off, blood mixing with the earth below it.

The iron tinged smelled of the blood was putrid, and Athelstan took a step back to cover his mouth and nose from it.  He never did enjoy the smells of battle but he didn’t have much time to bask in the stench of it all as another man came at him full force, a crazed look in his eyes.  Athelstan stood there as if he was preparing to be killed before slicing open the belly of the man as he neared close enough.  He, too, went down hard and fast, dead on sight.

“We found a mass grave,” Rollo informed them as he found the group, bloodied and caked in earth from their fight.  “What happened here?”

“While you were busy looking at churches, we were busy fighting off those that probably killed the townspeople here,” answered Ragnar, wiping at his runny nose.

Floki stomped his feet.  “Damn it all!  I missed it!”

“How about you go get your loot and we’ll wait here so we can get home?”

Floki gave Athelstan an annoyed face but managed to eventually leave, happy once more when he found all of the treasures that awaited him inside the empty houses.

“Who killed the giant?” asked Rollo, kicking at the headless dead body.

“That would be our little Viking, Athelstan,” Ragnar laughed as he announced with pride.  “Funny what a family will do to your mindset.”

“ _Athelstan_ managed this?”

“I would worry, Rollo, if he threatens you from now on,” chuckled Erik, some others joining him.

Rollo scoffed, walking away to gather his own goodies.  Athelstan’s ego soared as the men congratulated him on a job well done.

It wasn’t until he hugged his wife that he managed to feel the tiniest bit of guilt for taking the lives left behind.


	23. From This Valley

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’m sorry to not have gotten this out sooner (like my normal Wednesdays) but Wednesdays have now become my practicum days…so while you all may have been possibly waiting around for me to post this chapter, I was out with laboring mothers waiting for babies to show up. I immensely enjoy my job but it’s both mentally and physically draining; I could barely form a sentence let alone try to edit an entire chapter! So now I think I’ll be moving my posting date to Fridays because I have these days off. Hope you all enjoy this chapter, and again I’m sorry!

_Oh the outcast dreams of acceptance_   
_Just to find pure love's embrace_

_Like an orphan longs for its mother_   
_May you hold me in your grace_

_-The Civil Wars_

 

He was becoming immune.  And he didn’t even feel any concern towards the fact.  He was becoming hardened and mean and vicious.  No pity was left in his wake; no fear for his soul in the afterlife, no concern for the families left behind with the losses of their husbands and fathers, and no worry as to what his wife would say when he would tell her again and again that he had taken yet another life.

As they scoured the rolling Irish hills and towns towards the end of their summer raids, Athelstan felt as every breath filled his heaving lungs.  The group had been attacked by the Celts just moments prior and he felt the sting of battle in his aching arms.  The dead were scattered amongst the living, their blood staining the beautiful greens and mixing with the puddles that formed from the heavy rains.  The Vikings continued to inspect that no one was left alive, taking trinkets and weapons from the fallen warriors.  Athelstan felt curiosity as he watched their body paint wash away with the downpour, his vision blurred as the water fell into his eyes.  What possessed them to wear it?  Did it have any meaning?  And if it did, what did it stand for?

But he couldn’t ask them because they had passed in to a realm that he would not follow on this day.  He had made sure of that.

“Leave their corpses,” Ragnar ordered.  “Gather our dead; we will burn their bodies in ceremony.”

As the few Vikings were put together in a pile to be burned, Athelstan heard a soft murmur come from the West, carried on the wind.  He strained to make out what it was but the large gusts that were picking up were making it difficult.  He walked towards it, getting away from the billowing smoke that created a tickle in his throat and making him cough.  The muffled noise gave way to a full blown cry and he stopped dead in his tracks, distraught as the connection between the cry and a baby happened in his brain.  He couldn’t believe that one of them would have carried a child out into a battle, but there were a lot of things he didn’t understand about this group of people.

Picking up his pace, Athelstan stopped by the body of a woman who laid face down, a pack on her back.  The cries came from the covered bag, and when he stooped down to pull back the blanket, he was face-to-face with a red cheeked babe.  It couldn’t be more than a few months; around the same age as Finn.  Athelstan took the bag off of the woman’s back carefully so as not to drop the baby out from it, bouncing slightly so as to calm the little one as he would do when Finn was unhappy. 

“What are we going to do with you?” he crooned, rocking back and forth until the baby fell back to sleep.  It was an honest question; how would they take care of such a small one with no wet nurse or mother around?  Any of the women traveling with them on this trip were well past their last child and so they wouldn’t have any milk to spare.

He walked back over to his group, receiving odd stares from some of the others.

“What did you find, Athelstan?” one of the young boys asked.

“A babe.  Orphaned I’ll assume.  I’m not quite sure what to do with the poor thing.”

“Leave it,” Rollo replied, his voice gruff with distaste for the tiny child.  “It can die with its worthless parents.”

“Never such truer words than that of a childless man,” Athelstan retorted, ignoring the ignorant idea.

“What do you suggest then?” Ragnar asked, already agreeing with his brother.

“We can’t just leave it here to die of starvation.  I know we have barbaric tendencies, but Ragnar imagine if it was one of your children!  No.  I don’t have a plan but the baby is coming with us.  I’ll figure it out as I go.”

“I will help you,” one of the women offered, coming over and taking the child out of its pack. 

“Thank you.”

“And what of it when we get back home?” Floki asked, eyeing the baby as if it was diseased.

“If no one will take him or her, then Helena and I will.”

“Wonderful,” Rollo mumbled, rolling his eyes and turning back to the burning lot.

Athelstan attempted to control his temper.  “I’ll pretend that you didn’t just say that.  If I remember correctly, I saved your arse earlier today.  You’re welcome.”

Ragnar laughed as he witnessed the two bickering.  “Fine, fine.  We will take the babe and you can deal with it as you see fit.”

“What will we call it until then?” the woman, Loti, asked. 

“And now we’re naming it!” Rollo groaned, walking away from the group completely.

“How about Lytling?  It means ‘little one’ in my native tongue,” suggested Athelstan, taking the baby back and putting it in the bag as the men readied to travel on.

“It works for either a boy or girl, whenever we discover that out.  I like it,” Loti replied, throwing her belongings on her back.

 

The baby screamed as the boat rocked back and forth from the strong sea storm.  Athelstan placed his pinky finger into her mouth and she quieted immediately, sucking diligently. 

“She’s hungry,” he called over to Loti.  They had gathered a copious amount of goat’s milk from a farm before setting off for home, and had a makeshift cup ready to make it easier for the baby to drink.  Loti nodded, readying the cup with the milk and sending it down the line to Athelstan.

“Here you go, Lytling,” he said, tipping the cup so that a steady stream came out.  She drank heavily, going into a happy coma of sorts from the comfort of a full belly.

“Thor does not approve your foreign baby, Athelstan,” Floki warned.

He rolled his eyes at the eccentric man’s accusation and continued to feed the baby.  “Floki, how many times have we weathered storms such as these and I did not have a foreign baby with me then.”

The man only answered with his squinted eyes, turning back to the sea and offering up prayers of thanksgiving to Thor in an attempt to quiet the sea.

As day broke over them, the waters were calm and the sky clear.  Athelstan awoke to the gurgling of the baby as she chewed on her tiny fingers, inspecting them as if discovering them for the first time.  He smiled down on her, and it was in that moment when he realized that he quite possibly could have been the cause of her predicament, he felt the guttural guilt that had previously come with the murders he had committed, this time making up for all those that he had so conveniently forgotten.  Athelstan felt sick and passed the baby off to Loti in enough time to spew up his guts overboard.

“Yes, children make me sick first thing in the morning, too,” joked one of the men as the others joined in his laughter.

Athelstan shook his head, attempting to get rid of the thoughts and faces that now plagued his uneasy mind: forty-two souls taken by his dirtied hands in a matter of a few weeks.

He had become one of them.

Not in the sense that he had managed to work his way into the culture, the people; but that he had actually managed to let go of the conscious that he had carried with him for so long and, in order to be saved from dying himself, killed others in mass records.

Who was he?

Though still feeling queasy, Athelstan took the baby back and fed her for the morning, allowing Loti to ready herself for their departure onto the docks later on.  After burping and changing her, he handed the little one back to Loti and prepared his own belongings.

The cheers greeted them as they always did when they would return.  Athelstan gulped some ale as a way to mask the sickness that lingered on his breath.  He didn’t need Helena worrying over him once he kissed her hello.  The anchors were dropped and the men and women filed out.

“If you need my help, you know where to find me,” Loti offered, handing the baby back to Athelstan.  Lytling cooed and smiled up at him and he returned the favor.

“I appreciate all that you have done, Loti.  Until next time,” he said, shaking her strong hand.

“Is there something you wish to tell me?” Helena asked as he approached with his ‘gift.’

Athelstan chuckled.  “Don’t worry, she’s not mine.  An orphaned baby.  I couldn’t leave her and so I was hoping that we knew someone who could take her in; feed her something other than goat’s milk in a strange cup.”

He watched as Helena visibly relaxed as it was confirmed that he hadn’t been keeping a summer lover over in Ireland all this time.  Athelstan smirked as he leaned in, taking a hold of her by the neck and kissing her hard on the mouth.

“You’re all I need,” he whispered as his lips tickled hers.

Finn whined in his ear, pulling on Athelstan’s shirt for attention.

“I know, I know.”  He put down his belongings and switched babies with Helena.  Finn snuggled into the crook of Athelstan’s neck and he rubbed a smoothing hand over the boy’s back.  “I’ve missed you so much, Finn.  Have you been a good boy for Momma?”

Finn giggled and wiggled around some more.

“He’s been a holy terror,” Helena smirked, settling Lytling on to her back and picking up Athelstan’s belongings.  “But he’s been good company to keep.  He hasn’t stopped asking for you, either.”

“What?”  When he had left, Finn was only saying ‘momma,’ but now she was claiming that while he was away his son decided to learn his name?

Helena nodded her head.  “He’s been crawling around yelling out ‘papa’ everywhere he goes.  I suspect he thinks that you are merely hiding from him for long periods of time.”

“Papa!” Finn exclaimed, popping up and placing drool-filled kisses on Athelstan’s cheek.

He thought that his heart would burst with pride and joy.  “By the way, I did say to the men that if no one would take Lytling in that we would.”

“Lytling?  Oh, you mean this little one on my back?”  Athelstan nodded.  “We’ll have to discuss it, but I think I know just the person.  There’s a young couple about our age that apparently have been trying for ages to conceive and I think that at this point they will definitely consider Lytling.”

There was a twinge of sadness that crept in, and Athelstan was sorry to see the beautiful little girl leave him.  He enjoyed having two little ones around instead of just one.  Maybe they would be blessed with a little girl of their own someday.  He would like that.

 

“Well they snatched her up as if she was the last drop of water in the sea,” Helena announced once she was through the door.  Athelstan had stayed back as she went to offer Lytling to another couple; he couldn’t bear to have to say good-bye to the precious darling.

He smiled, though it was tinged with sadness.  “I’m happy that she has found a loving home.”

Helena sat on his lap, wrapping her fingers in his curls as Finn played on the floor.  “I’m sure that we’ll have more little ones in the future.  They named her Arnfríðr, for ‘beloved.’  I think it is befitting, don’t you?”

“Hmm,” he answered, lost in the warmth of her bosom and too tired to speak.  Yes, it was nice to know that they had taken her in so easily and that he would not have to worry about her going to a reluctant family.

“How about you lie down and we can catch up later?  I’ll take Finn outside to play for a little.”

“We need to talk.”

He felt her tense up.  “Oh?”

“It’s nothing wrong with us.  You’re wonderful, believe me!  But I have noticed something in myself lately that I don’t know that I like so much.  I want to get it off of my chest, if you don’t mind.”

Her fingers played across his ear and down his neck.  “Of course I don’t mind.  But you need your rest first.  I love you.”

He smiled up at her before touching his mouth to hers.  “And I you.”

 

With Finn sound asleep in his crib, Athelstan sat up in bed, supported by the headboard.  “I’ve killed many people this summer, Helena.”

She peered up at him, hesitant to say anything and he knew it was because she expected him to give her more information before determining her true feelings about the facts.

“In the past I have killed merely to save myself from very likely death.  And I felt awful about each one.  But now?”  He paused before he could bare to continue on.  “This summer has changed me.  I stopped waiting until they gave me a reason to fight back, and instead I’m attacking first and not caring if they die or not.”

She rested her head in her hand to be closer to him.  “You have a child now.”

“Yes.  And Finn’s arrival has done many things to me, including a desire to make sure that I’m around to see him blossom and grow.  But can I really justify that?”

“You haven’t mentioned any guilt on the subject before now.  Why now?”

“But we have discuss—“

“In past summers, yes, we have discussed your distaste over lives lost, but those were cases that you could not help; you had done all that you could do before it came to that.  But if you’re just making sure to return to us, why the guilt?”

“It was Lytling—Arnfríðr I mean.  I just looked down at her this morning and realized that it very possibly could have been me who orphaned her.  What kind of father does that make me?  A selfish one, I think.  And of all the things I have strived to be, selfish was not one of them.  I’m a Norse now; a true one that doesn’t care of the consequences of my actions.  Just as long as I can get back to my family, that’s all that matters to me.”

Helena shook her head, taking her free hand and putting it in his, rubbing circles in the area between his thumb and index finger.  “I do not condone your actions, Athelstan, but I cannot let you go on degrading yourself.  You have a new purpose in life, and that makes it understandable that you would want to come home in one piece.  Maybe you were on the track to becoming that selfish father, a true Norse in your eyes, but none of them are going home to their wives tonight and talking about how badly they feel now that they realize the wrong that they have done.”

“No, I suppose they are not,” he agreed, mumbling and running a thumb over his broken fingernails.

“No, they are not.  In fact, I’m pretty sure that they are having a much more enjoyable time than we are.”

He looked down at her with her suggestive tone and wished he hadn’t.  “I’m being serious, Helena.”

“I am as well.  I love you for your honesty and your dedication to me and our son.  I know what that means, though.  You have recognized your faults and you can change your ways after you’ve asked for forgiveness from the only one who can give it.  And we both know that it isn’t me.”

“But I seek your approval.”

“And you have it.  I know what that heart of yours holds, Athelstan.  I love you truly and deeply, and no amount of wayward actions could change that.  I will always be on your side and by your side.  Forever.”

He loved her for every word she spoke; just as passionate as the day he had met her.  And he made sure to show her exactly how happy he was to have her in his life and back in his arms, finally greeting his wife properly that day.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So what do you all think of Athelstan these days? Surprised? Not surprised? Angry with him, or understanding? He’s definitely doing some ‘un-Christian’ things these days!


	24. Sweet Disposition

_While our blood's still young_   
_It's so young, it runs_   
_We won't stop 'til it's over_   
_Won't stop to surrender_

_-The Temper Trap_

 

The crisp fall air greeted the small family as they made their way across the fields and over to the Lothbrok’s home.  The hustle and bustle of the inside could be heard from their stance on the other side of the door, and Athelstan wasn’t sure why they had agreed to help with the morning wedding preparations.

“Remember, they helped with ours and now we need to help with Bjorn’s,” Helena reminded him as she saw his facial expression change, shifting Finn from one hip to the other.

“Right.”

He knocked before entering, a habit since they no longer lived there.  Inside was chaos as Lagertha set piles of food on large platters with Sigurd strapped to her back and Ivar running around, Gyda chasing after him. 

“Really, Gyda?  How long does it take to grab him?” Lagertha asked, exasperated.  She moved her hair out of her face and continued on, apparently not having heard Athelstan enter the home.

“What do you need?” Helena questioned, strapping Finn in as well and readying herself for whatever Lagertha was about to throw her way.

“Athelstan needs to help Ragnar with setting up the tables.  Dalla’s father is here as well but those two are terrible when it comes to working together.  I need you to help me set up these platters and covering them until we can take them out.  And _Gyda_ needs to get Ivar under control even if that means tying him to a chair!”

The younger girl sighed and ran after her younger brother once more.

“Where is Bjorn?” Helena asked, setting to her tasks.

“Getting cleansed at the bath house.”

Athelstan turned and left for the yard, not wanting to revisit that memory again.  The trees were a beautiful orange color and it went very well with the decorations set up for the ceremony and celebration afterwards.

“Ah, Athelstan,” Ragnar greeted when he saw him.  “Do you remember Leif?  He is Dalla’s father.”

“Yes, I believe we may have met a time or two on a raiding,” Leif replied for him, taking Athelstan’s hand to shake.  He was a large, beefy man with a booming voice and red bushy beard to round everything out.

“Good to see you again,” Athelstan replied, trying not to wince at the man’s tight grasp.

“Yes, yes.  A very good day it is!  Bjorn and Dalla are a fine couple, and will bring many strong sons I’m sure.”

“I’m sure.”

“Bjorn is at the bath house,” Ragnar said, his attention on Athelstan and a smirk crinkling his bright blue eyes.  “You remember the bath houses, don’t you Athelstan?”

He glared at Ragnar.  “Yes, I remember.”

“Do you wish to visit them again?  I’m sure you’ll do much better this time around now that you’re not so…innocent.”

Leif gave a boisterous laugh, knowing exactly what Ragnar spoke of.  “Don’t worry, my boy!  I was the same way when I got married.”

“No, thank you.  I was actually sent to get you two moving along as the ceremony should be starting shortly and the platters have yet to make their way out of the house.”  He paused as the other two looked at him, not comprehending the problem.  “Let’s move.  _Now_.”

“You’re such a woman sometimes, Athelstan,” groaned Ragnar, getting back to setting up tables while Athelstan set up the chairs.  Leif stood back and instead instructed them where to put everything.  It was a situation that Athelstan was both pleased and annoyed with.

 

Athelstan tapped his foot along to the booming music that floated over the vast crowd.  He smiled and laughed at the people as they danced, very drunk, around the yard.  He was also quite gone, his fifth pint gone within a few short hours and his sixth in his hand.  He observed Bjorn and Dalla dancing alongside their guests and he envied them; they were starting from scratch, and he missed those days.  Especially the honeymoon days.

Bjorn looked handsome in his blue shirt and brown pants while Dalla’s pale skin was beautifully adorned with a red dress.  They were happy and he was happy for them; they would be amazing together, and he knew that Dalla wouldn’t allow Bjorn to go on with the grumpiness he had been prone to in his younger days.

“Hello, handsome husband of mine,” Helena said in his ear as she approached. 

He smirked back at her.  “Ah, wonderful wife of mine.  I was afraid I had lost you in the crowd.”  He wrapped and arm around her waist and placed a small kiss on the tip of her nose.

“Not a chance.  Finn was tired so I put him down in with Ivar and Sigurd.  Lagertha doesn’t have the energy to stay up much longer so she’s inside as well.” 

“Would you care to dance?” he asked, putting his drink down on the table and grabbing her hand.

“I would love to,” she answered, smiling at him as he pulled her out and attempted to move to the music.  Helena couldn’t help but laugh at his drunkenness.  “You’re a complete mess, Athelstan.”

“I feel fantastic, though!”

She laughed some more, continuing with her dancing.  They went on for a short burst of a few minutes but then the sun began its descent in earnest and the musicians and guests made away with themselves.

“I’ll be back,” Athelstan said to Helena, now a little more coherent since he had sweated out some of his alcohol.  “We have to take Bjorn to his new home.”

“I’ll be at home.  Lagertha said that she would keep Finn for the night,” Helena said, winking at him before turning to leave.

“Damn her,” Athelstan mumbled as he watched her walk away.  He was so excited to get home that he nearly shoved the new couple into theirs just to get back to his quicker.  He wasn’t sure how long into tomorrow Lagertha was willing to keep his son and so he had to make best with the time that they were allotted.

 

Oh, how he had missed this.  This being that he was able to take his time and enjoy his wife without rushing to spend a few moments alone together because their child insisted upon being the lightest of sleepers.  This also being that he could enjoy her a few times over; be reacquainted with things that he had forgotten: the slope of her hip, the mole under her right breast that made her both giggle and gasp, and the dimples of both knees.

Athelstan breathed softly on her ear as the tip of his tongue traced the shell.  “I’ve missed you.”

Helena bit down on her bottom lip as he moved to nibble on the skin behind her ear.  “I’ve missed you.  Why did we have a baby again?”

His chuckle was deep and low against her throat where he splayed a trail of hot kisses.  “He’s not so bad until we try for a moment alone.”  He completely shed her of her dress, their tongues dancing together, fighting for dominance.

 

Athelstan jumped awake at the feather light touch that tickled his side.  It was still dark in the home, the middle of the night he would guess.  Helena traced her fingers over his old wounds, now just scars that mapped out his naked body, silver in the moonlight.

“What are you doing?” he asked, his voice still oozing the sleep that he had come out of.

“Getting to know the new you.”

Had he changed that much?  “The new me?”

“I haven’t been able to view your body in detail much since Finn was conceived and you have many new scars that have been added since that time.”  She laid her arm lazily around his hip bone, drawing circles on his lower back.

Athelstan took a deep, steadying breath to attempt to calm himself before he decided to ravish her instead of having this time to talk.  “How are you feeling now, love?”

“I would feel much better if you stop talking and get over here.”

Well, in that case.  He closed the gap between them, sprawling atop of her.  Athelstan grabbed both of her wrists and held them above her head with one hand as his other hand and mouth worshipped the rest of her body.

 

Athelstan held Helena close as she slept and he watched the dying embers in the fireplace dance on the wall.  He was content, he was happy, and he was satisfied with his life.  How was it that he was so lucky?  Though, mind you, he hadn’t always felt that way; taken from his original home, made a slave, losing an unborn child, and being nearly killed in battle had all made him question what God had in mind for him and his true purpose on Earth.  But here, in this moment with his beautiful bride in his arms and the tranquility of their home surrounding them, Athelstan felt peace of mind and body.

He moved his lips across her shoulder and down to the crook of her neck where he buried his face.  Athelstan breathed her scent in deeply and pulled her even closer to him.  Helena stirred as his movements woke her, and she leaned into his warmth with a small smile playing on her lips.

“Why are you awake?  It’s only just nearing dawn and we don’t have a little one to wake us.”

“My body doesn’t know the difference anymore,” he chuckled, moving her hair away from the back of her neck and leaving little nips.

She sighed and turned to face him, pushing him on to his back as her hand dropped from his chest to his leg.

“Helena!” he exclaimed, not expecting her to do such a thing so quickly into their conversation.

“Maybe I could help your body relax enough to go back to sleep while we still have the chance,” she suggested, giving him a wink when she was done speaking.

“We always start off so innocent and then your devilish lust takes over and I’m helpless to stop it,” he joked, placing his hands on her hips as she sat on his lap.  He bit back a moan.

“Oh, blaming me now?  I was fast asleep and then you decided to wake me!”

Athelstan smirked as he sat up and pulled her mouth to his, letting his hands roam before Helena pushed him back down.

“I’m in charge now,” she grinned, grinding her hips against his.

He put his arms above his head and clasped his hands together.  “Do what you must, my lady.”

 

His body ached as he finally awoke from his slumber to a mid-morning sun.  The rays streamed through the window and created almost a rainbow-like effect on Helena’s skin.  He traced her curves with his fingertips before making himself move out of bed and get breakfast started.

Helena finally stirred once the porridge gave off an enticing smell.  Athelstan watched her stretch and sigh from the pleasure of it before she put on her underdress and joined him at the table.

“Morning,” she said, taking his cup and drinking from it.  “Why didn’t you wake me?”

“Because the last time I did I was taught quite the lesson and, while I thoroughly enjoyed it,” Helena smirked at the memory, “I didn’t think that we needed to backtrack anymore and should probably pick our son up soon.”

She shrugged and finished drinking before getting up and serving them both breakfast.  They ate in comfortable silence, glancing up on occasion to give the other a cheeky look.  Athelstan finished first, famished from their night long gallivanting in bed, and once Helena was done he cleared the table for her.  She went to get up to ready for the day but Athelstan took her into his arms and sat her on the table, attacking her neck.

“Who are you and what have you done with my husband?” she joked even as she wrapped her legs around his waist and held him close to her.

“He told me that you needed to be taken good care of because he’s been lacking as of recent,” Athelstan retorted, breathing the words into her sensitive ear.  “And I intend to hold up my end of the deal while I still can.”

He laid her down on the table and held her in place.  “I also happen to know that you’ve never ventured outside of the bed for such a thing, and that seems all wrong to me.”

Helena giggled as this bold person took over, Athelstan not stopping until her laughter turned into moans.

 

“There’s my handsome boy!” Helena exclaimed as Finn came crawling at lightning speed towards her.  She picked him up and twirled them around.  Finn’s face lit up and he giggled with delight.

“Did you enjoy your evening, priest?” Ragnar asked, his expression already that of knowing.

“What do you think?”

Ragnar gave a bold laugh and clapped Athelstan’s shoulders.  “I have been very proud of you as of late.  You have been a true Viking for us, Athelstan.  I hope you keep up the good work this coming summer.”

“We will see.”

Finn yawned, his mid-morning nap time approaching quickly.  He rested his head on Helena’s shoulder and snuggled into her, his eyes drooping from the comfort of his mother’s arms.

“Did he behave for you?” she asked Lagertha, gathering up Finn’s toy and blanket.

Lagertha laughed.  “He’s yours and Athelstan’s son; how could he be anything but good?”

Helena smiled and, after thanking her, walked out of the house where the two men were busy talking.  “Are you ready to go?  We have to finish up the harvest on our end and get everything in to storage before the winter winds come.”

Athelstan nodded and they said good-byes to their friends before heading home, looking forward to time well spent during the upcoming season.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope everyone enjoyed the private time between Athelstan and Helena, and that it wasn’t too much for the T rating…I don’t think so but I don’t know how sensitive some people are. Also, I didn’t want to go into too much detail with the wedding because I figure you all remember how our favorite couple’s went. I’m working on the next chapter and it’s not going so well…writer’s block is making details non-existent :( Hopefully I can get it out to you all by next Friday still, but if not then you know why! Thanks for reading!


	25. All You Need

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So…I can’t apologize enough for taking two weeks off :( I appreciate those of you who have gotten in touch with me, worried that I had given up or something. But fear no more! Like I said in the last chapter, I wasn’t sure when I was going to get this done; I had written the prior chapters before school started and was at a loss for this chapter when I got to it. My muse ran away, and I’m not even sure if she’s fully back yet but here’s some reading before we get to the heavy stuff! The next few chapters have been written and I will be posting again on Friday. Please let me know your thoughts, and I hope you’re not too upset with me!

_All you need_   
_Is some peace_   
_While you are here_   
_Just let go_   
_I'll be it all, dear_

_-Lana del Rey_

 

“Happy birthday, Finn,” Athelstan greeted his son in the early morning light, a smile illuminating his face. 

The little one grinned back at his father, tackling him on the large bed and giggling in delight as Athelstan tickled his chubby belly.  “Papa!” he exclaimed as he tried desperately to move Athelstan’s hands away.

“What is all the noise in here?” Helena questioned as she joined her boys in the bedroom after having put some bread into the hearth to bake.

“We’re celebrating Finn’s birthday by playing,” Athelstan answered, letting his son go so that he could snuggle into the warmth and safety of his mother’s arms.  “Did Lagertha say if she and the family would be joining us today?”

“She did.  They’ll be by this evening for dinner.”  She looked down at Finn who was twirling the ends of her hair around his fingers.  “To believe that a year ago I was in pain and about to deliver you; sending your poor papa into the bitter cold and snow to fetch Lagertha and Gyda to help me!  How you’ve grown in that time.”

            Finn garbled back as if he was recalling his end of the deal and his parents bit back their grins so as not to make him feel embarrassed. 

            “Is that so?” Athelstan asked.  “My, what a terrible ordeal you went through!  I’m so happy to see that you decided to stick around even though we put you through that.”

            Both Finn and Helena smiled and laughed at him before he snatched his son out of Helena’s arms and continued on with his tickling attack.

 

            “Come in!  Come in,” Helena welcomed the Lothbroks into the home.  They all shuffled in from the cold; there was no snow on the ground, unlike the year prior, but the wind was bitter nonetheless.

Finn clapped his hands together as he saw the loving, familiar faces of their friends, waving hello to them.  Gyda bent down and scooped him into her arms, showering his soft cheeks with excited kisses.  He squealed with amusement, leaning into her affections.

“Happy birthday, Finn,” Lagertha greeted with a kind smile as Ragnar made his way over and tickled the boy’s ribs.  She walked to Finn’s room and laid Sigurd down as he was fast asleep, lightly snoring away.  After Ivar had observed his brother’s settling, he went about investigating the house until instructed to sit down for dinner.

            “How is married life treating you, Bjorn?” Athelstan asked with a twinkle in his eye, setting the meat platter down on the table as the newlyweds and family sat down.

The others laughed as Dalla blushed from the tips of her head to the neck seam of her dress.  Fingers picked at the food offered and Ragnar gulped heavily from his chalice. 

“We’ve enjoyed our honeymoon but it’s nice to get out of the house,” Bjorn answered, his mouth full of chewed chicken. 

“I remember feeling the same way,” Athelstan replied and Helena rubbed his back affectionately.  “Helena was just happy to air the house out.”

The group laughed, Finn and Ivar joining just because everyone else was doing so.  After the table was cleaned of its remnants, Ragnar grabbed a small, pointed gift that had been hidden in the corner by the door.  Finn watched with curiosity as it was brought closer to him, revealing a tiny wooden sword.

“Happy birthday, Finn,” Ragnar said, smirking at the little one’s wide eyes.  “Now you can be a warrior like your papa.”

Athelstan gave a weary look to Helena, but she passed on a reassuring smile and they both grinned as Finn gently took a hold of the sword.  He whined and wiggled his way out of Helena’s lap, swinging the sword around and babbling as if preparing for a war.

“We have a gift as well, Finn,” Bjorn announced, bringing forth a small belt that had a loop attached for holding the sword.  As if even possible, the child’s blue eyes grew even more before he giggled with excitement.  “Stay still so I can put it on.”

Finn watched as Bjorn fastened the belt and showed him how to put the sword inside.  He clapped before taking the toy back out and running around the house with it high in the air, Ivar on his heels and also yelling his battle cry.  The adults enjoyed their entertainment, Athelstan taking Helena’s hand in his and bringing it to his lips for a kiss.

“I have a gift for Finn as well, but I am sure that he will not love it as much as a sword,” Gyda explained, ducking her head as she brought forth a blanket.  “I thought that he could use something warm for the winter so that he does not catch so many colds this season as he did the last.”

Helena took the soft material in her hands and held it close to her chest.  “I’m sure that he will adore it because it’s from you, Gyda.”

“I agree,” said Athelstan, getting up from his seat and hugging his dear friend, placing a kiss on the top of her head.  “Thank you, sweet girl.”

“Did you hear?” Ragnar piped up, catching everyone’s attention.  “Our Gyda has an admirer.”

“An admirer?” Bjorn asked, taking a drink of his ale.  “Who is this admirer?”

“Calm down, love,” Dalla said, rubbing a soothing hand on her husband’s arm.

“His name is Gunnar, son of Dragen.”

“Has the boy traveled with us before?” Athelstan questioned, the name ringing a bell.

“Yes, last summer was his first.”

“How did you meet?” Helena asked Gyda, excited for the young woman.

Gyda turned a pretty pale pink.  “At Bjorn and Dalla’s wedding.  He asked me to dance and then just recently asked Father if he could court me once the weather let up.”

“And you agreed to this?” Athelstan asked, turning his attention back to Ragnar, weary of the idea of Gyda possibly marrying so soon.

The older man shrugged.  “Gyda said that she felt that Gunnar may be good husband material, and so I will let him court her and if she likes, marry her at some point.  Unless, of course, he gives me reason not to like him.”

“Gunnar is a good man,” Lagertha argued as she came back from getting a fussy Sigurd.  “But Gyda will let us know otherwise, won’t you child?”

Gyda nodded, and Athelstan could see that she wished to have the attention off of her already.

“So we fared well with the harvest?”

Ragnar grunted.  “Yes, well enough.  I hope to get some snow to make the grounds better for spring but we will see.”  He took a gulp of his drink.  “I know you would rather stay behind and tend to the fields than come raiding with us, but I cannot guarantee anything just yet.”

“I appreciate anything that you can do for us, Ragnar, including letting me provide for my family.  I understand if we cannot manage me staying behind but thank you for remembering.”

Finn came out from exploring his room for the enemy with Ivar, rubbing his eyes and yawning.  He reached up for Athelstan to take him.

“We should be going,” Lagertha announced as she noticed how tired Ivar was becoming as well.  “Thank you for having us for dinner and happy birthday again, Finn.”

Athelstan glanced down at his son to find him fast asleep in his lap already, his grip on the sword unwavering.  “Thank you all for joining us, and for his gifts.”

He and Helena walked the family to the door, waving goodbye as they disappeared into the dark.  Closing the door behind them, Athelstan took Finn to his bed, tucking Gyda’s blanket around him.  He tried to put the sword away for the night, but his son kept his grip on it and eventually he gave up.  Going back out to the dining area, he found Helena scrubbing the pots before setting them down to dry.

“Is he okay?” she asked without turning around, drying her hands on her apron.

“Sound asleep, holding on to his toy,” Athelstan snorted, wrapping her into his arms and breathing in her scent.  “Thank you.”

“For what?” she laughed, leaning back to look up at him.

“For our son.  I know I’ve said it before, but he really is a precious gift and you’re a wonderful mother to him.”

She gave him a chaste kiss.  “And thank you for being a wonderful father to him.  We’re very blessed.”

He nodded as a yawn overtook him.  Helena smirked up at him.

“Let’s go to bed, old man.”

“Hey!  I was the one looking after Finn today while you prepared the dinner; he’s got quite a lot of energy since we’re stuck inside!”

She just smiled and dragged him to bed, the two of them falling asleep instantly, curled up together.

 

As spring sprung up, Athelstan and Helena decided that a trip to the market place in Kattegat was necessary for more supplies.  The winter had turned out to be moderate and so they needed to stock up as they prepared for planting the harvest.  They waved to those they knew in passing, the familiar faces chuckling at Finn.  He sat high and proud on his father’s shoulders, twirling his sword around and babbling, only a few of his words intelligible.

“Watch where you’re putting that, little one,” Athelstan warned as he was almost hit in the face for the umpteenth time.

Finn giggled before putting the sword into his looped belt.  Athelstan and Helena stopped to speak to Arne and his new wife.

“I see you are expecting, then?” Helena asked, taking in the woman’s growing belly with a grin.  Though they had had their differences, since Arne’s turn of attitude towards Athelstan, the three had become close confidants.

“Aye,” Arne replied with a bright smile, wrapping a protective arm around his wife’s middle.  “We have been told by the end of the summer season the babe should arrive.”

“Congratulations to you both,” Athelstan said, shaking hands with Arne.

“And Finn,” Arne said, turning his attention to the child, “I see that you have attained quite a mighty sword there.”

Finn’s face lit up, his hands going to his toy and bringing it forth for Arne to see it better.  He raised it high and did his normal garbling when doing so. 

“And I fine warrior you will be as well!”

Finn covered up his delighted laughter with one hand, the toy getting in the way of his other hand.  The couples departed for their own destinations shortly afterwards.

As Athelstan and Helena began their walk towards the food stands once again, they ran into the couple that had taken on the orphaned child Athelstan had brought back, Arnfríðr.

“How have you all been?” the young mother asked, hugging Helena and thanking her once more of the gift she had been given.

“Very well, thank you,” Helena answered.  “We celebrated Finn’s first year over the winter months.  How about you?"

“Arnfríðr has been adjusting very well and we celebrated her first year as well.”  The woman turned her attention to her husband with a knowing smile.  “We have been informed that we are expecting.”

“Oh how wonderful!”

Athelstan shook hands with the man as Helena went in for another hug.  “I’m pleased to see that Arnfríðr is doing so well and that you will have a chance at a child of your own blood as well.”

“Thank you,” the man answered.  “For everything.”

Athelstan nodded and the families went their separate ways.  Once they had finally had a chance to gather the food that they needed, Athelstan and Helena decided that it was time to head home before they were caught up in more conversation and walking back in the dark. 

Turning towards the road home, they failed to notice the dark brown eyes that glared at them, ready to pounce and begin their destruction.   

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry so short but it’s meant to be a filler chapter. If anyone has a tumblr, please feel free to follow me and I’ll follow you back if you let me know that you’re a fanfiction reader! http://www.tumblr.com/blog/nurse-cait See you all next week!


	26. Broken Crown

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have the feeling that I will end up with hate reviews after this chapter, but I just ask that you all continue to stick with me on this! If you remember, I’ve talked about a big twist in the story…a surprise for you all; well here it is! I know I’ve put up lyrics with every chapter so you can follow along with the soundtrack that I’ve made, and maybe some of you have listened and maybe some have not. But I can’t emphasize enough that with these last chapters, I HIGHLY encourage you to do so…it will definitely get you in the mind frame of Athelstan. We’re getting close to the end :(

_So crawl on my belly 'til the sun goes down_   
_I'll never wear your broken crown_   
_I can take the road and I can fuck it all away_

_But in this twilight, our choices seal our fate_

_-Mumford and Sons_

 

“Papa,” Finn whispered from the side of his parents’ bed.  He poked at Athelstan’s limp form, soft snoring coming from his father’s open mouth.  Finn began to jump up and down, annoyed that his father was ignoring him.  “PAPA!”

Athelstan jumped awake, spotting his son’s cheeky grin and instantly relaxed knowing that he wasn’t hurt or in danger.  He rubbed at his eyes before lifting up Finn and putting him in the bed, attempting to go back to sleep.  The child really did know obnoxious hours in which to wake.  But try as hard as Athelstan did, Finn wouldn’t have any of that sleeping business; he started to poke at any part of his father that he could get to.  Athelstan chose to ignore him until Finn finally grabbed onto his nose and pulled hard, giggling as Athelstan grabbed the injured body part in pain.

“Finn,” Helena mumbled, “leave your papa alone.”

Finn laughed again, rolling over and cuddling into Helena’s chest as he sucked his thumb.  Athelstan scoffed as his son appeared to fall back to sleep thanks to the comfort of his mother, but he still moved over and created a cocoon as they all enjoyed a few more hours of sleep. 

The sun was blinding and the sky gave off a blue so bright that it looked white, almost as if it and the clouds were one.  Athelstan felt peace wash over him as he stepped out into the warmth of the day, thankful for such great weather in which to harvest the first of the corn.  He breathed in the fresh June air before heading over to the barn and grabbing the sickle.  As he came back around the corner, he grinned as Helena chased a keen Finn, scooping him up and smattering his pink cheeks with kisses.

The corn was located in the corner of the field closest to their home and so it was left up to Athelstan to take care for it while Ragnar was paying attention to the crops nearer his house.  Helena wrapped Finn around her front so that he was near her and within eyesight while she washed the harvest that Athelstan took down.  If they were lucky, Finn would fall asleep at some point and she could take him in the house to lie down while the two of them finished up.

The sun’s rays made it hard for Athelstan to see as he worked the long hours, the sweat dripping into his eyes and the taste salty as it hit his mouth.  But the amount of corn that he was able to put in the basket to be washed and either sold or stored was amazing, and he felt it wrong to complain, instead wiping his brow and hacking away at the stalks some more.

Helena, on the other hand, was having difficulties with Finn staying still.  As he was getting older, his restlessness was immensely worse than the previous summer when he was only a few months old and unable to walk around.  She sighed, getting up from where she had been stationed, attempting to hold Finn in place.

“I’m going to walk him around a bit to hopefully get some energy out of him.  I’ll get lunch ready then and let you know, yeah?”

Athelstan wiped at the sweat again.  “Alright.  Are you sure I can’t help you?”

She smiled at him as she unwrapped Finn.  “No, that’s okay.”

As soon as he was let down, Finn dashed for the tree line, pointing and babbling about the birds.  Athelstan had previously found a nest in a low lying tree and had shown Finn the speckled eggs inside; ever since then, the toddler had yet to let up on his fascination with it.  Helena jogged after him, grabbing at his small body and yet somehow unable to grasp him.

Athelstan continued with harvesting, moving on to some of the root vegetables that were ready to be plucked from their burrow in the ground.  He heard as Helena and Finn came back to the house, Finn crying about the baby birds until Helena offered to give him a treat if he stopped crying (which, of course, he did).  When she called after Athelstan for lunch, he dropped his tools where they were and walked back, stomach growling and eager for a little bit of food to ease the pains until dinner.

After a family lunch, Athelstan took Finn down to the water’s edge, letting the boy splash around and run back home to Helena once he had had enough.  The time tuckered him out and so while Athelstan went back to the crops, Helena told him that she would put Finn down and be out shortly to wash up the vegetables she was now behind on.

Gyda walked out of the Lothbrok home, waving to Athelstan from the other end of the field, and he waved in return.  She looked happy and healthy, and he couldn’t help but feel a little ping of jealousy; soon she would be a married woman and he would no longer see his old friend like he did in these moments.  He watched as she pulled the family horse out of the stable and saddled it up, riding off into the direction of Gunnar’s home, before returning to his task.

Moments passed before the thought came that Helena was taking much longer than he would have imagined her to.  Finn was probably giving her a hard time.  It was amazing how loving and comforting he could be at times, and then a holy terror the next.  Wiping the dirt off of his knees, he made his way back to the house to see if he could help her out.

Checking the home, Athelstan found Finn fast asleep on their bed but no sign of Helena anywhere.  Confused, he turned and went out to the barn, careful to close the door to the house behind him gently so as not to wake his son.  There was movement from the barn and relief washed over him as he spotted Helena’s skirts in the doorway.  But the feeling was lost when he noticed that a man had a hold of her, hand over her mouth and a knife at the soft skin of her throat.  His heart sunk to the pits of his stomach as he realized the danger that she was in until his battle instincts took over, and he quietly grabbed his sword from inside the house, making his way over to the barn where Helena and the man had disappeared into.

His footsteps were subtle and he was careful when peaking around the corner to better understand the situation.  Helena and the man’s backs were facing him, the intruder so large that he engulfed Helena’s small frame.

“I’m so _sick_ of you and that husband of yours thinking that you belong here, that you fit in.  And don’t get me started on that bastard child of yours!  So here’s what is going to happen: you’re going to be a good girl and die like you needed to do so many years ago when I beat the pulp out of you, and then when your pathetic husband finds your body as he’s putting away his tools, I’ll kill him as I wanted to do the moment I met him.  Once you’re both dead and gone, I’m going to cut your child in half as he screams for his momma and papa to save him from the big.  Bad.  Man.”

_Rollo._

Athelstan felt sick to his stomach as he watched the man emphasize words, threatening the cutting of Helena’s throat as he did so.  Her muffled sobs broke his heart and he made the decision to move forward, sword at the ready.

“I think I’ll enjoy killing you three the most of any lives I’ve ever taken.  It’s disgusting how much my brother adores Athelstan and always has.  I can’t wait to see the look on his face when they find your bodies.  And then once I’ve pretended enough to care about all of this, I’ll kill him, too, and take a stand as Earl, bringing us back to glory once more instead of this equality crap he’s been spewing.”

“I doubt that.”

Rollo twisted to look at Athelstan, the words surprising him enough to loosen his grip on Helena.  Athelstan closed the gap, plunging the sword into Rollo’s back, right through his heart.  Helena, at the same time, ducked out of Rollo’s grip and, as he was weakened by the weapon, grabbed the knife out of his hand and ran it through the dip where his collarbone and throat met.  He made a terrible gurgling noise as Athelstan turned the sword clockwise, still firmly planted in his chest.  As Athelstan slowly pulled the weapon out, Rollo fell to the floor, a permanent look of confusion and surprise on his once handsome face.  Blood poured from each wound, his mouth, and onto his hands and the hay where his body lay.

Athelstan dropped his sword and took the dagger out of Helena’s hand, her shock not allowing for moving or functioning.  She looked up at him, more tears brimming in her eyes, the tears on her cheeks drying in the early summer warmth.

“Are you alright?” he asked, taking her into his arms.  “Please tell me you’re okay.”

Words were lost but he felt her nod against his shoulder.  He kissed every part of her that he could find: head, ear, cheek, nose, neck, and finally her mouth.

“I love you.  I love you so much, and I’m sorry.”

“You have nothing to be sorry for,” she whispered, clinging to him.  “I’m just happy that you found us before he actually stopped threatening and actually killed me.”

“Athelstan?”

They whipped their heads in the direction of Ragnar’s voice, approaching the barn.  He appeared in the entryway with a grin on his face but it quickly diminished at what he saw.

“What happened here?” he asked as he closed in on them, his eyes trained on his brother’s lifeless body at their feet.

“Ragnar, I—“

“Have you found them?” Lagertha called, also entering the barn, her smile disappearing as well when she saw the face her husband was making.

“WHAT HAVE YOU DONE?!” Ragnar bellowed, kneeling at Rollo’s body and taking it into his arms.

“He was holding Helena captive, threatened her life, my life, Finn’s!  And he said he would do the same to you when the time came.  What was I supposed to do?  Let him kill all of us or take him out instead?”

Ragnar growled at Athelstan, tears spilling over his hard blue eyes.  He rocked the dead body back and forth. 

“Are you okay?” Lagertha questioned, inspecting Helena and Athelstan, noticing the red marks on Helena’s wrists and neck.

“Who cares if they’re okay, Lagertha?  My brother is _dead_!”  The anguish in Ragnar’s voice was upsetting to all who listened.

“I care, Ragnar.  You and I both know how your brother could be; how much he hated your relationship with Athelstan.  I am sorry that he did not die in battle but I am not sure that he deserved to be in Valhalla if what Athelstan says is true.  And how often has Athelstan lied to us?”

Ragnar put Rollo’s body down and turned on the group behind him.  “Rollo was an honest fighter and he was effective when it came to persuading those around him who doubted.  He deserves Valhalla more than any man I know, and now he has been robbed of that!”

“Let me turn back time, then, and have him murder my wife and child, and then when you find our bodies you can bury us before Lagertha has to in turn bury you because he didn’t think as highly of you as you did of him!” Athelstan retorted, anger overtaking him.  “How dare you take his side in any of this?  You’re blind when it comes to him.  Don’t you remember years ago when he tried to kill you before?  Or when he beat Helena to a near death?  Or all the times he threatened me while we were raiding?  You may have thought that to be a joke but he was serious, Ragnar Lothbrok, and you are a _fool_ for these words you say!”

“Athelstan,” Helena whispered harshly, shaking her head. 

“No, I’m not sorry for saying this.  It’s time for Ragnar to see the true criminal ways of his brother.”

Ragnar stood in front of Athelstan, breathing down on him.  “Tomorrow.  You are to be in Kattegat first thing in the morning.  Your fate will be decided then.”  He picked up Rollo’s body and strode past the three people meant to be his family, leaving to give his brother a Viking’s funeral ceremony.


	27. I Gave You All

_And you rip it from my hands_   
_And you swear it's all gone_   
_And you rip out all I had_   
_Just to say that you've won, you've won_   
_Well, now you've won_

_-Mumford and Sons_

 

            He couldn’t sleep.  Tossing and turning until the furs were tightly wrapped around his legs, Athelstan huffed and threw the covers off only to pace in front of the fireplace, his stomach turning and the acid threatening to spill into his dry mouth.  Could he have done something different?  _Had_ he been wrong?

But what else was he expected to do?  Rollo had had Helena by the throat and   
Athelstan had heard the man not only threaten her life but the life of Finn and Ragnar once he had killed him.  How could Ragnar be so blind to all of this?  He knew that they were brothers but Ragnar had always been of reason and he knew of Rollo’s impulsivity!

What would become of them?  How could he take care of them if Ragnar decided to take the home and all of their things from them?  Where would they go?  And if Ragnar cut off all ties with them, then would _all_ of the Norse people cut ties with them?

Athelstan sagged into his chair, head in his hands and tears streaming down his face.  How had they come to this?

 

He watched as the sun rose over the horizon and spilled light into the home, blood red painting the sky above.  His nerves became even more frazzled and his heart sped up.  This was not a good sign. 

Subtle steps came from the corner, and he found Finn’s smiling face racing towards him.  He was tackled by the sleepy warmth of the little one, his arms a perfect necklace around Athelstan’s neck.  He inhaled deeply the distinct smell that was his son, wishing that he could feel as happy and care-free as Finn.

“Come,” the boy commanded, pulling out of Athelstan’s arms and grabbing his hand.  He led the way to the breakfast table.

Athelstan put a gentle hand on Helena’s lower back as he took a seat, watching as she put porridge in his bowl before tending to Finn.  She had not slept well, either, and so once the dawn had broken she had gone straight to the kitchen.  He supposed it was her way of trying to get the day moving faster so that their misery could be over sooner. After a moment of time, Helena let out a deep sign and wiped her hands on her apron.

“I’ll just be a moment,” she murmured, dashing for the door.  He knew that she was having a hard time keeping the tears at bay and would let her have some time in which to compose herself before they had to leave for town.

The road to Kattegat was not as beautiful or serene or promising as it once had been.  Athelstan’s body fought to stay home while his feet tried to run to get the trial done and the guessing game over with.  Faces appeared in windows of the homes, watching as the small family passed by, knowing of the rumors and wanting to see for themselves the murderer of the infamous Rollo.  Unknowing of the events that had occurred, Finn waved and smiled at the strangers, giving them a start before they quickly backed away.

The old Earl’s house was packed inside and a group was forming on the outside to hear what they could as the trial proceeded.  Athelstan guided Helena, who was holding Finn close to her chest for protection, into the home and they lost all sense of what time of day it was.  The swarming of people blocked out any sunlight and the house was only lit with candles and a roaring fire in the fireplace.

Athelstan spotted Ragnar and Lagertha, along with the children, sitting to the left of the table and so he took a stand on the opposite side, staking his claim in the moment he stood still.  Though they were surrounded on all sides by interested townsfolk, he could feel all eyes on him and Helena, glaring and accusing them of outright murder.

“They hate us,” Helena whispered, not really talking to him but unable to keep the thought inside for much longer.  She pulled Finn tighter to her as if to save him but Athelstan could see that the toddler felt a difference towards him and his parents, and so he did not fight her to get down and say hello to everyone like he was used to doing.

            Gyda caught Athelstan’s eye and the plea in her eyes made him feel terrible for any hostility he had felt towards the Norse as a whole.  He saw her struggle: be loyal to her father, whom she knew was wrong about the situation, or take a stand for Athelstan and be thought a traitor?  Lagertha looked as if she were ready to spit blood at Ragnar, holding Sigurd in a death grip while smoothing Ivar’s hair down with a heavy hand.  The latter glanced up at his mother as if he were afraid that she would turn into a monster of folklore at any moment.  Ragnar, however, peered around at the crowd with complete smugness.  Who was this man?  Athelstan had not seen this sort of behavior from him since his first days in Scandinavia.

A quiet hush came over the people, and Ragnar turned to an older man who came forward.  The man would serve as coordinator of the trial.  Athelstan took his steps towards the table, sitting down at his designated spot.  He ignored Ragnar’s glare.

“Today we come together to decide the fate of the man known as Athelstan.  Our brother, Ragnar, has accused this man of murdering Rollo Lothbrok in cold blood.  We will hear from both sides in the matter and then vote at the end.”  He paused, turning to his right.  “Ragnar, you may speak first since you are the one making the accusations.”

Ragnar took his time coming to a full stand and let out a gust of breath before speaking.  “Yesterday was just as any day would be.  I woke up, spent time with my family as my wife and daughter did the wash, and then I chose to visit my former slave and his family as we had discussed our plans for harvesting the day before.  I expected him to be in the barn because I saw that the doors were open.  As I walked in, I found Athelstan and his wife kissing as if they were celebrating something.  Then I saw my brother’s dead body at their feet!  Athelstan had killed Rollo and he and Helena were _happy_ about it!”  The crowd gasped, and Ragnar moved out from the table.  “I ask all of you, what would you want?  I cannot bring my brother back from the dead, but I can ask that you punish this man for murdering him!”  He paused, clasping his hands together.  “Athelstan was once considered family, and my own family has asked that he not be killed in turn.  Instead, I ask that you send him back to England, along with his wife and child, to fend for themselves; where they have _no one_ and _nothing_ to help them survive.”

Athelstan heard Helena’s sob from his side and he chanced a look over to Lagertha and Gyda.  The older woman was staring at her husband as if she was plotting his death, and Gyda’s tears were a steady stream down her face.  Ragnar sat back down with a plop and Athelstan hesitantly rose to speak his side.

“I will not deny partaking in the death of Rollo.  But the story that you have been given is full of deceit.  I was out working in the fields and knew that my wife, Helena, was going to meet me out there shortly once she had gotten our son down for his nap.  When it took her longer than usual, I went in search of her only to find her being held captive by Rollo with a knife to her throat.  I overheard him tell her that he would kill her, our son, myself, and then once Ragnar had gone through our burial, he would in turn kill him as well.  I couldn’t let him follow through with such a plan and so I attacked, knowing that it was the only way to stop someone such as Rollo as I have spent time with him on raids.  I kissed my wife out of relief and that’s when Ragnar showed up, making accusations and not listening to reason.”  He paused to take a deep breath.  “I am truly sorry that Rollo’s life has ended, but I would do it again if I had to because it was either his life or the lives of four others.  I _beg_ you to understand that.”

Though he had been sick this morning, as Athelstan sat back down, he was relieved and felt hopeful that the townspeople would make the correct decision by letting him and Helena go back to their day-to-day life here.

“We will now hold the vote,” the older man announced.  “Based on the suggestions of both men involved, we will choose between allowing Athelstan and his family to stay here and continue to be part of our community, or we will banish him back to where he came from: England.”

The crowd bowed their heads and closed their eyes, waiting on the time in which they would raise their hands in a vote.  The older man cleared his throat.

“Those in favor of staying, raise your hand.”  Athelstan was numb as he waited on the hand count to be done.  “And those in favor of banishment.”

“You may open your eyes now.”  The man tore his gaze away from the group before him to look at the young man to his left.  “It pains me to tell you this, Athelstan, but I must hereby banish you and your wife and child to the shores of England.”

_No_.

A sudden wash of cold came over him.  How he had longed for the comfort of his English home all those years ago, and now that he would be taken back for good he couldn’t help but feel absolutely terrified.  His home had been a monastery that had burned to the ground, and he had no idea of the whereabouts of any family members or if they were even still alive.  And he knew that Helena’s family had been murdered at the time she had been taken captive.

“No!” Gyda cried out, and Athelstan glanced back at her through misty eyes.

“Gyda, you will hold your tongue,” Ragnar commanded, his voice a hiss.

Athelstan stood from his chair on wobbling knees and walked over to Helena who was trying to keep her composure for the sake of Finn but failing fast.  He took the toddler in his arms and pulled Helena up, steadying her fast to his side. 

“You can do this,” he attempted to convince her but he knew even he had a hard time believing his words as his voice wavered.  “We need to get back home and you can cry for as long as you need.”

She numbly nodded her head and he put his free arm around her waist, guiding his devastated family back to a place that would no longer be theirs in a short period of time.

“I am sorry, Athelstan.  I truly did vote for you to stay.”

He stopped and turned to Arne, standing there with disappointment evident on his face.

“I know how terrible Rollo could be towards you, and it was no secret of what he did to Helena all those years back.  I believe you both.  I’m just sorry that not enough people believed you as well.”

“Thank you,” Athelstan answered, his voice weak with emotion.  Who would have guessed that Arne would have been their advocate all those years ago?  Had you asked Athelstan, he would have never placed bets on the man; what a fool he was.

“If you need help with anything, I am here for you.  And I know that others will be willing as well.”

Athelstan nodded, moving forward.  The received glances were diverse; half showed anger so spiteful it appeared as if they had a bad taste in their mouth just at the sight of the little family, and the other half showed pity and heartbreak for them.  Not being able to stand the sight of either for much longer, he put his head down far enough to be able to see the path and took the tracks to get back to the village.

“Athelstan!” a small voice carried over the crowd.  It was one of the children slaves that they had taught back when Helena was pregnant with Finn.  This child’s name was Peter and he had a younger brother, John.  The two boys had been orphaned shortly after their arrival and classes had begun.

“Peter, what are you doing?  You don’t want to be seen with us, trust me.”

“Helena?” the boy asked, taking in the woman’s demeanor and becoming increasingly concerned.

She hiccupped and forced a smile, moving over to him and folding his small frame in hers.  “We won’t be seeing you anymore, Peter.  I want you to remember that you are special and loved.”

“Why won’t I see you?”

“We have been informed that we are going back to England,” Athelstan replied as the words became too much for Helena.

“Can I go with you?”  His voice was spiked with loneliness and desperation.

“I wish you could.  You _and_ John.  But we did not choose this, and wish that we could stay here with you and the others.”

“You always told us that God has a plan for each of us.  Maybe this is where you’re meant to go,” Peter suggested, shrugged his bony shoulders.  “And maybe if we are lucky we will meet again.”

Helena kissed the top of his dirty blond locks.  “God willing.  Now you run along; we don’t want you to get in trouble with your master.”

“I will see you both someday soon.  Safe travels to you.”

They watched him walk away, no words spoken before turning and taking their own departure.

 

Athelstan gave Helena her time in which to let go of her overwhelming emotions.  She did so, and when he and Finn returned to the home, he found her beginning to pack the most essential items for their trip back.

“I’m sure that there won’t be much room on the boat so I will only pack what is necessary.  The rest can stay here and be used by whoever lives here next.”

The thought was strange, and the two of them looked uncomfortable as the words left her mouth.  Athelstan had spent many hours and weeks creating this home with his own bare hands and yet he and the family that he had built would barely make memories in it.  Finn would most likely never remember it as he could barely speak but a few words here and there.

“Yes, well, don’t pack too much.  I’m unsure when exactly we’ll be leaving.”

His own thoughts becoming too much to handle, Athelstan left Finn with Helena to take time outside and enjoy on of the last evenings he would be allotted here.

“Ah, good, just who I wished to see.”

Ragnar was standing there with Lagertha by his side, Sigurd in her arms. 

“Unfortunately, I cannot say the same,” he answered.  What had been sadness just seconds prior was now turning to anger with Ragnar’s cockiness being thrown in his face.

“No matter.  I wanted to let you know that you, Helena, and Finn are set to sail with us to England by the end of the week.  Take what you need and nothing more.”

“Athelstan, I’m sorry—“ began Lagertha until she was interrupted by Helena’s presence and the snap of her husband’s neck.

“They got what they deserved, Lagertha.  The people have spoken and that is _it_.”

Athelstan’s pulse sped and he felt the uncontrollable need to spit in the man’s face.  The words tumbled from his lips at a rate he didn’t even realize he could speak.  “Ragnar Lothbrok, I gave you _EVERYTHING_.  I was a slave who asked questions so that I could better understand this new world in which you thrust upon me.  I did everything that you commanded of me even when I wanted to run away until the Lord decided to let me leave this world behind.  I followed you everywhere when I knew it was against my beliefs.  I have dressed, talked, and acted as the people have for _years_ all in a failed attempt to make you happy and to see yet another day.  I was under the impression that you thought of me as a brother in arms; that you thought of me as family, especially when your actual brother attempted to kill you as you took power over him.  I have loved you and your family for as long as I can remember, and found a peace over time to have spent my last days in this country alongside you.  And _now_ , when I have saved you and my own family from the ultimate doom of facing Rollo as he takes your last breath from you, _this_ is how you repay me?

“Ragnar, you are _blinded_ by your grief.  I understand you mourning the loss of Rollo; he was your brother after all.  But what I cannot understand for the life of me is _this_ reaction towards me.  Even your wife and your daughter have told you how wrong you are in all of this and still you do not listen!  Now you leave me and my wife and young child alone to fight for our lives in a country that you took us from and killed all who we knew, to fend for ourselves with the clothes on our backs and praying for the kindness of strangers to get us through.

“ _Everything_ , Ragnar.  All that I had.  And this is what you do to me?  I wish no ill will towards your family, but I do pray that you find out sooner rather than later that Odin and Thor and all of your false gods do not always have your back.  Maybe then you will understand the predicament that you just put me through.”

The two men huffed in each other’s faces, the anger so thick between them that only Thor’s hammer could cut through it.

“Come, Athelstan,” Helena murmured in his ear, her voice sad and her hand comforting on his arm.  “You have said what you needed to say.  Let’s go inside.”

As he took the steps to his home, he glanced back at Ragnar and saw the man smirking before his face turned angered and nasty.  He turned and went back home, Lagertha reluctantly following.

 

With their bags packed and last meal eaten, Athelstan walked Helena and Finn out of their house.  He took a look around, sad to know that this would be the last time he would see it.  He shut the door and put the biggest bag of theirs on his back, picking up a sleepy Finn and holding Helena’s hand as they walked to the docks.  This was something familiar that made the journey a little easier. 

The couple took in the sights of the beautiful countryside that they had both come to love and call their homeland.  Each corner seemed to hold a special memory for each of them; a first kiss, an argument (playful, of course), their betrothal, a picnic shared in secrecy, and many good-byes as Athelstan would leave to pillage the English or Irish towns. 

“Athelstan,” Gyda said, stopping them before they could reach the docks.  She wrapped her lithe arms around his neck.  “I never thought that this would actually happen when I dreamt it last year.  I can’t believe that Father is being like this; that you’re actually leaving me and I’ll never be able to hug you or talk to you again.”

“I will miss you, Gyda Lothbrok.  Do not let your father break your kind spirit or your good heart.  Know that I will never forget you or our friendship.  I love you, beautiful girl.”

“And I you,” she cried into his shoulder.  Gyda turned and said her good-bye to Helena, covering Finn’s cheeks in kisses as she always had since he was born.  He laughed and hugged her, giving her a kiss back.

“You deserved this, you bitch,” cursed Siggy from the trees as Athelstan and Helena passed by.

“Keep telling yourself that, Siggy, to make yourself feel better.  But you’re the one alone, you worthless whore.”  Helena kept her stare on the boats and continued to walk by Siggy as she retorted.

At least Athelstan would have some relief as they left: Siggy’s face a priceless gift in which he was given.

“I cannot fully say good-bye to either of you, but I wish you to know that I tried everything to change this outcome,” Lagertha said as they approached her place at the beginning of the dock.  “It will take a very long time until I can look at my husband and not want to take his life myself.  But more than any of this I will miss you all so much.”  She paused to laugh at her thoughts, smiling at Athelstan.  “I was reluctant to have you at first, Athelstan, but you have proven to be a worthy and trusted friend.  And you, Helena, have been such a great help and also a good friend to me.  You both are wonderful parents and I know that Finn will grow to be an exemplary young man.  I’m just sorry that I won’t be able to see that day.”

“You have been a wonderful friend to both of us, Lagertha, and we know that you have done all that you can do.  I’m sorry to not see your boys grow as well, but if they’re anything like Bjorn I’m sure that you will be very blessed in the coming years.”

She nodded, moving out of the way for the family to head forward towards the boats.  Athelstan helped Helena get into the vessel before stepping in as well, setting them up in the back before taking a seat to row.

“Boat!” exclaimed Finn, excited to actually be in the ship instead of just waving to his father.

Athelstan turned to give him a smile and while turning back he found sad smiles from Bjorn, Erik, and Arne in his wake.  He nodded to each of them before facing forward.  Floki did not seem to be upset over the loss of the former slaves, though he had always been tickled pink by the baby.  Ragnar got into the boat, not receiving a kiss from his wife as had been custom, and took his stance.  He saw Athelstan at his usual spot and chose to ignore him, facing forward.

“Hoist the anchors, men!” he ordered.  “Oars!”

Scandinavia was now just be a memory within the mist.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Don’t worry, there are still a few more chapters! See you all next week!


	28. Dust Bowl Dance

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, the only excuse I have for taking so long to update is that it’s been a crazy past 6 weeks. First I had job interviews (I’m going to be a maternity nurse!), we threw my mom a surprise 50th birthday party, then I had to wrap up school, finals are always a bitch, and then I graduated this past week. So I tried to sit down and write and found my muse didn’t want to come out and play. Luckily History channel bumped up the date reveal for the next season and I’ve seen a slight bit of the muse again. Everyone excited for the next season?!  
> So this is my apology for not getting this out sooner, and also a Christmas present to you all! Unless you don’t celebrate…then here’s a gift anyway! I hope you all have a safe 25th of December and enjoy it however you may go about your day :) Hopefully I get another chapter out next week…reviews are much appreciated and help give me inspiration to keep writing.

_Well you are my accuser, now look in my face_   
_Your oppression reeks of your greed and disgrace_   
_So one man has and another has not_   
_How can you love what it is you have got_

_-Mumford and Sons_

 

            The wind whipped and whirled around the faces of the ship’s occupants and Athelstan could hear as Finn began to whimper in the stern.  He sneaked a look back at his small family to see as Helena tried to comfort the child, singing softly in his ear while rocking him back and forth.  It was a gesture that Athelstan had seen on several occasions when his son would come to them crying in the middle of the night.  Finn quieted but had a permanent frown on his face, playing with the end of Helena’s long curls until he fell asleep.

“There is a storm coming,” Floki mumbled, looking to the skies above as the wind grew stronger and the waters restless. 

“No matter,” Ragnar replied, continuing to play with a knife in his large hands.  “This leg of the journey is almost over.  Then we will move along; the gods will be pleased and we will no longer face storms such as these anymore.  Our bad luck will be gone.”

Athelstan knew that he spoke of him but he kept his head down and his arms in motion, pushing to get to the shores of England as fast as he could manage, feeling as if he was being tugged and pulled in every direction emotionally.  He just wished for reassurance and courage instead of the internal demons that gnawed and gnashed at his heart and head.

“You think too highly of yourself, Ragnar Lothbrok,” Erik grumbled but his deep voice carried along the winds and to Ragnar’s ears.

“If you do not agree with me, you can go in exile with the monk,” he replied, his blue eyes flashing dangerously and his tone that of pure danger.

“Do not say anything else, Erik,” Athelstan mumbled to the man.  “I appreciate your support but you have a family to support and drowning is no way to get to Valhalla.”

“You should listen to him,” Ragnar said, turning back to the helm and vast sea in front of them.

“Why do you not stand up for yourself, Athelstan?” Arne whispered once he was sure that Ragnar was not listening.

“Because he knows it will only liken his chances for a slit throat or a toss overboard,” answered Bjorn, sounding defeated as well.  “You know my father, Arne.  Even you speak in hushed tones and wait for when he is focused elsewhere.  Why do you expect anything more from Athelstan?”

Arne reluctantly agreed with Bjorn’s words, turning back to his work and the rest of the men following into a lull as they continued on. 

 

As the sun broke on the horizon the following day, Athelstan felt as his heart began to pound against the bones of his chest.  They could see the outline of the English shore, a dark and looming mass that winked as the ships rowed closer, the sun bouncing off of the tops of the mountains and trees.  Glancing back to get Helena’s attention, he found that she was solely focused on the upcoming land, her throat bobbing up and down as she swallowed thickly.  He understood her fear; what once was so familiar and theirs was now a vast land of unknown.  Would they survive?  Would some kind heart take them in?  They appeared as Vikings now, though not towering like the natives; would people run and hide from them?

When the ships could not get any closer, the anchors were dropped and half of the occupants turned in anticipation of Athelstan’s departure.  He rose from his seat with a forced confidence and assisted Helena in gathering their belongings.  Finn stirred from his resting place against his mother’s warm chest but did not fully wake.  Strapping the bags to his body, Athelstan turned and found Erik standing, arm outstretched to shake with the departing man.

“It has been an honor,” he said, his voice gruff with the emotion that he tried to hide.  “I was unsure of you when you joined us as a priest, but you have shown great loyalty and perseverance over the years.  I wish you a happy life and a good death.”

Athelstan nodded, firmly gripping Erik’s forearm.  “Thank you.  And for you the same.”

As Erik sat down, Arne stood.  “We have had our differences, Athelstan, but I would have trusted you with my life in battle.  May you have a happy life and a good death.  The same for your descendants as well.”

“And the same for you, my friend.”

Athelstan moved on, shaking hands with those that chose to say good-bye.  Bjorn was the last to rise to his feet, taking his chances against his father’s wrath.

“You came into our lives and I was none too pleased about it,” he laughed, and Athelstan even found himself joining in.  “But over the years you have gained my trust and my loyalty.  I only wish that I could have done more for you and Helena.  I am sure that your god will see that you find your way back into your old life and will see to it that it is good.  I will pray to my gods that you have a good death as well.”

“I appreciate your kind words, Bjorn.  I hope a good life and death for you as well as your descendants.  I will miss you.”

Bjorn nodded, turning to Helena and hugging her before bending down to kiss Finn’s forehead. 

“Well, finally,” Ragnar smirked as Athelstan prepared to jump into the waters below.

“I think its best that you not speak, Ragnar Lothbrok.”

“Now is not the time to believe that you have some sort of power over your situation.”

“I don’t.  I just know that you do not either.  My Lord will prevail and I will do better than you have ever offered me.  I only hope that he spares the souls of your family and descendants.  As for you, I only hope that you see the day in which your sons do better and you fall to the background only to be forgotten.”

Ragnar’s snarl turned into a smirk as he fought off his unsureness.  “You can only hope.”

Athelstan gracefully jumped into the ocean, pushing the hair out of his face as he surfaced.  He signaled Helena to join, steadying her as she popped back up.  Finn began to cry from the shock of the water but calmed as his father hushed him.

“Let’s go,” Athelstan said to Helena, the two swimming to the shore that lay ahead of them.

 

After drying off and warming up from a fire deep within the forest, the small family gathered up their bags once more and trekked off in search of somewhere with information and a possible bed to sleep in.  It felt as if they were traveling hundreds of miles, Athelstan not wanting to stop in certain towns that he recognized as being once raided by he and the other Vikings.  On more than one occasion they had to stop because Helena couldn’t take the weight of Finn much longer and needed to rest her stooping shoulders and weary feet.  As the sun was beginning to set, Athelstan opted that they instead make camp within the woods and return to their traveling once morning came.

“Athelstan?” Helena whispered across the fire, afraid of waking Finn. 

“Hmm?” he managed as he attempted to fight off his fatigue.

“What will we do if no one will take us in?  Where will we go?”

He stared up at the sky above; Helena’s spoken fears making their current situation realistic once more.  The stars that peered back through the opening in the tree tops sparkled and danced and he found himself jealous of them.

“I don’t know.  But I have to have faith that things will work in our favor.”

“I thought that you were angry with God?”

“I was.”  He turned on his side to face her, head resting in his hand.  “Then while we were walking today I remembered that I have felt that way on several occasions and He turned it around for the better.  I couldn’t see past the devastation of being taken from the monastery all those years ago until I found myself becoming part of the culture and seeing how wonderful the people could be.  I couldn’t see past the anger when I was faced with losing you to Arne, and yet you chose me.  I couldn’t see past the profound sadness of losing our first child but then we grew closer and now we have Finn.

“Being back in England may not be what we expected in life, and we may not have anyone to go to for help because it’s been taken away from us but after all the trials and setbacks we have had, at some point things have gotten better.  I need to believe in that because otherwise I don’t know how we will survive.”

Helena nodded, running a finger over Finn’s chubby knuckles.  “I love you, and I believe in you.”

Athelstan gave her a small smile.  “I love you as well and am happy to have you by my side.”

 

During the early morning hours they walked along the outer rim of the forest in hopes of seeing a new town that they could seek shelter from.  Finn fussed and whined to get down and stretch his legs, not used to being cooped up in Helena’s arms for so long, and so the couple each took a hand and let him walk for a little while.  He did not fight, though, when the rains came and Helena insisted upon carrying him once more, shielding him with a blanket from one of the bags.  Drenched and starting to shiver, they finally saw a town that had yet to be discovered by the Vikings and Athelstan led them to their latest destination.

The town was quiet as the storm pushed all the inhabitants indoors.  They came across a tavern and Athelstan opened the door, allowing Helena and Finn to go first.  Inside only held one occupant besides the barkeep, who eyed the family with curiosity.

“Haven’t seen you around these parts before.  What’s your business?” he asked.  Athelstan could sense that the man was trying to sound more assured than he truly was.

“My wife and I are looking for a place to stay to keep out of the elements.  We have been misplaced and do not know of anyone in this area.  We just need somewhere to stay for a short time.”

“Misplaced?”

Athelstan took his time as he stepped towards the bar so that the other patron would not hear.  “We were captured years ago by the pagans of the East.  They kept us and made us abide by their ways.  After protecting my wife recently, we were informed that we had to come back to England.  We do not know where we are at, and any family we once had are gone.”

Athelstan could see the man’s internal debate and pleaded that he would see reason.  The rain bounced off of the exterior of the building and he feared that they would be put out only to die of illness from the chill.

“I beg you; please let us stay the night.  I have a few bits of money and we will bring no harm to you.  Please for the sake of my wife and child.”

After a breath, the man nodded.  “Give me what you can and I will get you some food.  But I want you out by tomorrow.”

Athelstan nodded eagerly and reached into his pocket, giving the man some of their money and walking Helena over to a nearby table.  Finn woke to the delectable smell of warm soup and bread and the barkeeper chuckled down at him.

“I remember when my lad was small like that.  Quite a curious age, isn’t it?”  He put a key down next to Athelstan’s arm.  “Your room is upstairs, first door on your left.  Enjoy your meal.”

“Thank you,” Helena said, placing a hand on the man’s arm.  “We cannot say it enough.”

He patted her hand and walked away, glancing at them from time to time.  Finn greedily ate at the broth soaked bread bits that Helena fed him.

“You won’t have any for yourself if you keep it up,” Athelstan commented to her.

She shrugged.  “As long as he’s good and fed, I can keep up.”

He broke off a bit of his bread and gave it to her.  “Please eat.”

She smirked at him and soaked up the juices in her bowl.  “Did you find out where we’re at?”

“No, I hadn’t pressed for information at the time.”  He caught the attention of the barkeeper, who acknowledged him.  “Can you tell us where we are at the moment?”

“Rochester.”

“Rochester?  That’s not far from Canterbury.  We could make it there in two days’ time, I believe,” Helena said to Athelstan.

“But you said there’s no family there anymore.”

“I don’t think that there is, but it’s close and I would at least know the town and they would know me as well.”

“You hope.”

She gave him a wry smile.  “It’s better than having people poke their noses out of their windows at you because you’re a stranger.  I would know where to take us until we can find a place to settle ourselves.  I may still have friends in the area; those that snuck away that day.  I would like to try if you agree to it.”

Athelstan watched Finn as he sucked on the bread that was in his mouth.  “Early tomorrow, then.”

Helena grinned and reached across, taking his hand in hers and giving it a reassuring squeeze.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Don’t worry, it’s not the last that we’ve seen of the Vikings but there will be just Athelstan and Helena for now. Please let me know your thoughts on their situation, and the way things were left with their former group of friends! I should update by Friday but if not, definitely Sunday! Until then…


	29. After the Storm

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I appreciate every single inquiry as to where I was with the latest update! I’m sorry this hasn’t happened sooner but life has been busier than I expected the last we saw one another, though luckily for the better. I traveled out to California to visit a friend, started my new job, and passed my boards (so I’m officially a nurse). I sat down SO many times to write this chapter and yet nothing really would come to me. I didn’t want to force it and so that’s why I waited until things died down a little. I hope you all enjoy this   
> P.S. How about kick ass Athelstan in the new trailers?? Funny, it’s as if they had popped inside my head or read this story haha So excited for the new season, as I’m sure you all are as well! Just wish that I could have had this story done before then :/

_And I took you by the hand_   
_And we stood tall_   
_And remembered our own land_   
_What we lived for_

_-Mumford and Sons_

 

Athelstan stood and watched as Helena plucked a blossom from a tree and, noting no insect or bee in its depths, breathed in its sickly sweet scent, bending down for Finn to take a whiff as well.

“Mmm,” the little one noted with appreciation.  Helena smiled radiantly at him, tickling his thin belly.

“My mother used to pick the most wonderful flowers and sell them at market.  I used to love when she would make daisy crowns and necklaces for my sisters and I; we felt like royalty,” she explained to their son as she weaved the steam through her braid.

Finn walked over to Athelstan and slipped his small hand in his father’s calloused one.  As they strolled along, Athelstan would take long glances at Helena and found himself smiling more and more as she did.  Her dark hair gleamed red in the bright sunlight of the early summer, reminding him of the early days in their relationship when they would sneak picnics in the small valley between the house and the forest.

Athelstan’s heart only ached when he found himself thinking of Scandinavia and the events that they had lived through recently.  He felt better about their chances back in England with every step they took on the dirt road, every grin Helena or Finn gave him, the sunny days that they had been blessed with.  It also helped that the barkeeper from their first stop had given them English clothes to bring less attention to them as they traveled on to the south.

They had no idea if there would be anyone left in Canterbury in which Helena would be able to claim as her family, but her happiness on their journey was infectious and Athelstan would never linger on the idea; only pray that it wasn’t a complete dead end on their part.

During the day they would walk as far as they could before either making camp in the dense forestry or stopping at an inn in a small town.  The travel reminded Athelstan of all that he missed in this country; its simple beauty, the smell that told of both an old history and yet the freshness of nature, that even after all this time and the worry he still felt welcome as if the land itself was trying to wrap its arms around him in a fierce hug. 

It also made him aware of just how much Finn was growing up.

How was it possible that his child was speaking, walking with ease, eighteen months of age?  Though his words had a touch of baby to them, he was learning more and more, teetering on the edge of forming sentences.  Their constant exercise was making his normal chunky toddler body smaller and his legs less bowed.  And then there was the thinking that he could boss his parents around on occasion; wasn’t that meant for the teenage years when everything was full of angst and the unknown?

“Boo bird!” Finn exclaimed, pointing high up into the tree tops at the vibrant color that poked out of the leaves and branches.  “Catch it!”

“We cannot catch it, darling,” Helena explained gently.  “It is a wild animal and needs to live among its kind.”

Finn frowned but kept on until he could make it no longer, needing to take his daily nap on his father’s shoulder.  Athelstan relished the bit of quiet that he and Helena had, holding hands as they marched along, Finn snoring lightly in Athelstan’s ear.  It was almost as if everything that had happened weeks ago was merely a nightmare.

If only that were true.

 

It happened with a squint, a furrow of the brow, a bite of the lip, and a huff of frustration.  They had been traveling for several days when Helena’s entire demeanor changed; she appeared as if she were searching for something.  Both Athelstan and Finn gazed upon her as if the several days of sun had caused her to lose her mind all together.  Then she began her wondering within the trees alongside the road.

“Helena, love, what are you doing?”

She snapped back her attention to the two men in her life, as if she had forgotten their presence for a moment.  “Oh, just looking for something.”

Athelstan, who was holding Finn, shared a concerned expression with his son.  The little one simply shrugged his shoulders and leaned over to be put down.  He started up with patting the trees that his mother visited, as if making some sort of sound would tell him that there was something different or important about a certain one.  _Honestly_ , Athelstan found himself wondering as he watched the two of them, _what was going on_?  He smiled and gave a short wave to a man who rode past them in the opposite direction, attempting to keep his curiosity at bay.

“Ah hah!” Helena exclaimed from a few feet up ahead, hands around a skinny tree and beaming.  Athelstan and Finn caught up to her and gazed upon the bark but could not visualize that which made her so happy.

“Would you like to share what you see with us before I become too concerned?” Athelstan asked, fighting between laughing and crying.

Helena rolled her eyes ever so slightly before curling her nail around letters etched decades prior by small children.  “C, K, E, H.”

Now that she pointed it out, Athelstan could see but continued to not understand.

“I was barely three years old when my older brother and sisters walked us out here to put our initials in the tree.  Cenhelm, Kinsley, Etheldred, and Helena.  We never did add on my younger brother’s initial…”

“I’m sorry.”

She considered him.  “Whatever for?”

“That you lost them.  That even though we are going back to your home that you most likely will not have any family to welcome you with open arms and delight in the surprise of Finn.  I wish I could change that for you.”

She placed a loving hand on his cheek and offered up a smile.  “I thank you, but it is not necessary.  They are in a better place, I am sure of it.  As I suppose we will find out our fate shortly.  Canterbury is right down this road.”

 

It was fantastic to watch as the road turned into a town bursting at the seams.  Even Helena seemed amazed as well, as if she did not expect there to be so many people left after the Viking raid years prior.  The market place was a bustling commotion as the townsfolk darted to and fro from one vendor to the next.  Athelstan held Finn tightly and attempted to keep up with Helena as she pushed her way through the crowd.

“We just need to make it past the market and then I can find…” Helena called back to him before stopping both her steps and her words.  Athelstan nearly knocked her over as he pummeled into her form.

“What’s wrong?” he questioned, following her gaze to a man in stately robes that glided with ease past them.  Was he the ruling authority over the town?

Athelstan watched as her hand reached out to touch the man’s arm, completely comfortable with the action.  The man stopped and turned to find the intruder to his personal space.  Athelstan worried for their safety as Helena acted so bold; the man looked none-to-pleased to have been interrupted.

“Uncle Edward?” she asked, quiet but loud enough for both men to hear her above the noise that surrounded them. 

The frown and creased eyebrows smoothed themselves as the other party appeared to have recognized her.  He let out a choked gasp and held her face as if she would disappear if he didn’t.  Athelstan was afraid of that as well as the crowd pushed past.

“Helena?” Edward breathed.  “How…?  How is this possible?  Is it really you?”

The two grabbed at each other and held on for dear life.  Athelstan and Finn watched in wonder as seamlessly a relative popped back into their dear matron’s life.  An uncle, and an apparent rich one at that.  How was it that they were to be brought such luck so early on?

“Thank you,” Athelstan mouthed wordlessly to the heavens above as Helena continued to hug Edward in the middle of the chaos.  Finn gazed upwards as well, wrinkling his forehead in confusion as to who his father could possibly to speaking to.  Athelstan chuckled in sincerest delight, kissing away the furrow.

“I do not mean to interrupt, but could we possibly take this somewhere else with a little less people?” he suggested, becoming keenly aware of the stares of others.

Helena and Edward broke apart and Athelstan felt self-conscious as the other man became aware of him.

“Uncle, this is my husband, Athelstan.”  The men shook hands as Edward smiled upon the disclosure.  “And this is our son, Finn.”

“A son?”  Edward sounded astonished and proud, as if he was Helena’s own father.  “You all must follow me to my home so that we can catch up on all that has happened.”

Home was putting it lightly.  The place that Edward had shown them to, along with two guardsmen, was more of a smaller version of a castle.  Even Helena seemed flabbergasted by the revelation, which made Athelstan even more uncomfortable than being the outcast on this family reunion.

“I can see from your faces that you weren’t expecting something so vast, especially my dear niece.”  Edward laughed, opening the enormous doors to the dining hall.  “Please, sit and eat with me.  You all look as if you have journeyed quite a ways.”  He paused, pulling Helena’s hands into his own.  “And from what I know of your disappearance, I would say that you have journeyed much more than any feet can tell the tale of.”

After ordering some of his servants to bring food for his guests, Edward sat down and stared lovingly at Helena.  “You must tell me dear girl where you have been and how you became a wife and mother in the span of time since I have seen you.”

“It’s quite a long story,” she warned but grinning all the same.

“You will stay with me and we will take however long it will until I hear everything that you have gone through, you brave girl.  And you as well, Athelstan, I’m sure of it.”

“I brave!” exclaimed a defiant Finn before backing down under the stare of this stranger.

“I am sure you are, young Finn.”  There was a twinkle in the eye of the older man.

This seemed to please the little one as he tried to hide his smile in Athelstan’s shirt.

“Uncle, I would love to share this meal with you as well as our story, but first I have to inquire as to how you have received…whichever title you have come across.”

Edward chortled, scratching some at his beard before answering.  “The title in which you are searching for would be King of Wessex, dear one.  And it is short story, though quite complicated.”

Athelstan choked on his gulp of wine.  Not only was he not used to the mix of sweet and bitter, having been so many years away from it, but the revelation of a king in their midst was too much.  Finn patted his father’s back in sympathy.  “I’m sorry?  You said that you are a _king_?”

Edward grinned at the younger male.  “The raids upon England have changed lines of succession along the way, and what was once a distant relation became closer and closer until it was on my door steps.  I did not wish to move to another town; my ancestry lines are here, my memories are here, and…my children’s graves are here.  So I commissioned for there to be a castle built here and have stayed where I feel safest and among my people.”

“So the boys were lost as well?” Helena whispered, saddened by the information.

Edward was empathetic.  “Yes.  They ran after the caravan of prisoners taken that day and the strangers at the end saw them off.  I tried to stop them before they left but they would not listen.”

“I’m sorry for your loss,” Athelstan offered.

“But what happens to the line of succession if the boys are not here to claim it?” Helena interrupted before Edward could acknowledge his new family member.  “Your nephew from your wife’s side?”

“I have not decided.  John is…not mature enough to run a portion of the motherland.  And I’m unsure if he ever will be.  I have considered another distant relative down the line but hopefully I have some time to think it over.”

Helena nodded and proceeded with her meal, as did the others, enjoying the company and the reassurance of a place to stay.

 

“I fear that I am dreaming and when I wake we will still be traveling to Canterbury, shivering and hungry, running out of money only to find out that there is no one left in your family and unable to find our way into the town’s good graces,” Athelstan confessed later that evening as they prepared for bed.

Helena threw the sheets to the large bed back and jumped in like a small child.  “You worry too much, my love.  I promise you that you are quite awake and that my uncle is very much alive.”

“Yes, well, dream you could also promise that as well.”

She laughed at him, attempting to keep it down as Finn lay nearby in his own bed, fast asleep.  “Come here, Athelstan.  You need rest after this long journey and time to take in all that has happened in only a short bit of time.”

He could not argue with her and climbed in the bed with her, wrapping his arms around her waist and taking in her scent at the crook of her neck.  “I only hope to wake in the morning and find that we are still in this comfortable bed in this wonderful place and that our luck continues.  I am hoping that your uncle can help me find a place of work so that I can support us.”

“I am sure that he would love to help you and in turn us.  Please rest your eyes and we will discuss this more in the morning.”

Athelstan did not fight his exhaustion any longer, the words ‘I love you’ on his lips.

 

 


	30. Below My Feet

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So what did everyone think of the latest episode? Not a whole lot of Athelstan lol But I know I cried way too much for my liking :/ Hopefully things look a little brighter in the upcoming season, but who knows with these people?!

_Keep the earth below my feet_

_For all my sweat, my blood runs weak_

_Let me learn from where I have been_

_Keep my eyes to serve, my hands to learn_

_-Mumford and Sons_

 

Athelstan laughed as he threw Finn high into the air before catching him again, the child’s squeals of delight infectious to all of those that surrounded them. Even the others that worked for the castle stopped and watched, smiling at the duo as Athelstan took a break from work to entertain his only child.

“Higher!” Finn encouraged, clapping in mid-air.

“No, not higher,” Helena argued as she joined them on the grounds of her uncle’s home. “Please stop all together! You’ll both give me a turn for the worst if you keep this up.”

Athelstan and Finn shared identical frowns but the elder put his son down and went over to greet his wife and her growing belly. In the months that the family had been in Canterbury, they had many changes come their way but, as a blessing, only in a good fashion. Edward had given them a permanent place in his home, helped Athelstan find a “job” even if it was only serving as a groundskeeper for the estate. The work made Athelstan feel as if they were earning their keep at the castle, as well as keeping him busy as he had grown accustomed to his entire life, first at the monastery and then in Scandinavia. The idea of sitting around reading books all day made him twitch with nervousness; it was a fine occupation to keep in the evening but the outdoors called his name during the daylight hours.

Edward had been taken aback by the revelation that his nephew-in-law had been a man of the cloth but came to an understanding once realizing that living in a pagan land would keep any of the holiest of men away from fully practicing. It was harder to swallow the truth of the battles in which Athelstan had helped partake in, fighting against his own native people, but Edward had taken a kind liking to him over the past several months as he witnessed the love and adoration that Athelstan awarded his family and an increasing appreciation of God once more. Athelstan even felt himself viewing the patriarch as a father figure, something he had not known in quite a long time.

And then there was the matter of Helena’s disclosure shortly after they had arrived home that they were expecting again. Oh the joy that couldn’t be contained! Finn didn’t quite understand what it meant that his mother would be having a baby but his fascination with the movement coming from her stomach was comical to all adults around him. Athelstan rejoiced but found himself wondering why she was so large this time around. Was it because it wasn’t her first anymore? But technically Finn wasn’t either… Or was there something more serious? She told him not to worry, and for the most part he didn’t, but there were times when they lay in bed at night that he would find the most ridiculous thoughts coming to his mind.

“How are the grounds treating you today?” Helena asked, bringing him back into focus. The leaves that lay on the ground indicating autumn swirled and danced at their feet.

He shrugged, clasping his hand in hers and walking her along the tree line. “The last of the harvest will be bountiful but the ground itself is becoming hard quickly. It served its purpose, though, and I have great faith in it for the spring.”

“Just in time for the baby,” Helena smiled, rubbing her abdomen.

Athelstan grinned at her before noticing that Finn was about to start climbing a nearby tree and ran off to save him from falling down and injuring his head. It was moments such as these that he wondered if his son was more influenced by his place of birth rather than his pedigree; how else could they explain his constant need to go on adventures and desire to fight often? How could they keep such a child from ridicule in a country that demanded their children be seen and not heard until much later in life? Finn was definitely going to be their trouble child if these years were any indication.

 

At dinner that evening, Edward appeared withdrawn and troubled. For most of the meal he was silent, which was unusual for him but both Athelstan and Helena decided internally to not push the issue because they knew he would discuss with them that which he saw fit.

“The last of the harvest will do us well,” Athelstan offered up between bites of roasted chicken. When all he received was a hum and half-hearted smile, the concern grew. “Is there something on your mind, Edward? Something that you wish to share?”

The man let out an elongated sigh. “I received news that my nephew, John, was injured badly while horseback riding and will most likely die from the injuries. That is, if he hasn’t already done so.”

“Oh uncle,” Helena replied, distraught at the news. “I’m so sorry. Was he traveling?”

Edward nodded, playing with his fork between his fingers. “His body will have to be brought back from France. As you may recall, his father’s family is from there and he was visiting for a month’s time.”

Helena placed a hand on Edward’s and gave a loving squeeze. “You will let us know if there is anything we can do for you or his sisters.”

“Yes,” he agreed. “But I will ask for Athelstan. We do not need you worrying or any of the like in your present state.”

Helena rolled her eyes to the heavens. “I’m not as delicate as you may expect, but I will let you treat me as such since I know you will not give up your stance.”

“I am just as stubborn as you and so you are correct to assume so,” Edward said, allowing for a small chuckle.

 

_The rancid smell invaded his nostrils and he could feel as it slowly burned the hairs down to the roots. Sniffling and trying to block the aroma from attacking his senses any longer, Athelstan brought his hand up to his face, only to find it and his forearm thick with blood. Quickly pushing the sleeve of his arm up, he found no sign of a wound belonging to him. Curious, he was forced to look down around him and that was when he made the discovery: hundreds of thousands of bodies were lying all around at his feet, the decay and rot bringing in more flies than he could ever imagine at one time. The sound of their buzzing started off as a low hum but grew louder and louder until Athelstan could take no more and was forced to cover his ears, the blood making his hands stick to the sides of his head, caking them in a gooey mess._

_The buzzing came to a halt, and when he opened his eyes, Athelstan found himself sitting in the throne room of the castle, tied to the arms of the king’s chair. He let the silence sink in before fighting against the ropes but their strong binds would not give way and so he sat, panting from the extreme use of his energy. The doors to the front of him creaked open, sending a small stream of sunlight into the darkness of the room. A figure made its way towards him, carrying something that he could not make out at the present moment. And though the doors had now shut, a light continued to illuminate the figure, causing strange shadows that prevented him from discovering who the intruder must be. As they came closer, Athelstan felt the urge to try to get out of his binds once more and started the fight again._

_“Athelstan,” came the voice of the stranger, almost in a song. “Calm yourself.”_

_He didn’t want to listen but he recognized the voice of Helena, possibly older though, and absolutely not pregnant as she was the last time he remembered her. Shortly after he stopped his struggle, she came close enough that he saw her face, a pillow in her hands, and a crown atop it._

_“What are you doing?” he asked. “Where did you get that?”_

_“Shh,” she replied, her lips in a soft smile, one that he knew she only reserved for him. “You must trust me, Athelstan.”_

_“I don’t understand.” The panic was bubbling up from deep within him and he didn’t know how much time he had left before it became too much._

_“And you won’t for some time to come, but you must believe me when I say that this is your destiny, one that you have to see to fruition.”_

_“Wha--?” he began before she came forward and placed the crown on his head. The weight was heavy; he could feel every ounce of gold and gem that it carried. His neck could not take so much and Athelstan found that he almost bowed to his wife._

_“Accept this, and know that I am by your side always.”_

_The air felt empty after her words, and he garnered enough strength to peek up. Helena was gone, as was her light, but the ropes that had kept him sitting had disappeared. He slowly rose, noticing that his clothes changed with every inch that he gained; a monk’s habit, a slave’s garments, a Viking’s armor, a groundskeeper’s apron, and finally a King’s robes. As he came to full height, Athelstan was blinded by the sunlight that spilled through the windows of the room but found after he brought his hand away from his face that there were several hundred people staring up at him, smiles adorning their faces, peace flowing from their bodies._

_While he walked across the grounds he listened as the birds called to one another and picked at some flowers to deliver to Helena later on. The spring air was cool but the sun warmed through his clothes, one of the most beautiful days that Athelstan could recall to memory. He heard giggling to his left and found Finn running up to him, carrying something in his small hands. When he reached him, Finn placed two intertwined rings in his father’s hands, running back to his mother, who was turned away from Athelstan. **Strange** , he thought, inspecting the rings. They were not only intertwined but appeared to have an arrow coming out of each one up towards the top. He had never seen anything like it. But when he gazed up to try to ask Finn what it was, both he and Helena were no longer there. Athelstan twisted and turned in an attempt to locate them, only to stop in his tracks._

_Before him stood masses of Viking men and women, ready for battle. He dropped the rings, earning a large thud at his feet. When he tempted to look down, he found that the rings had turned into a scroll. It unraveled and took off down the hill towards the Viking enemies. As it did so, Athelstan watched in wonder as the group parted like the Red Sea and a man came forward. Ragnar Lothbrok. Athelstan gasped as his former friend smirked up at him, stopping the scroll with his foot. The two continued to stare at one another, no one daring to move or say anything. It was the smell of smoke that alarmed Athelstan; where Ragnar stood on the scroll a fire had started, and was steadily approaching Athelstan at the top of the hill._

Athelstan jumped awake, covered in sweat and shivering from the cold he felt deep within him. He heard as Helena roused from her own dream state but unable to move as fast as he could.

“What is it?” she asked, clearing her throat so that she could speak.

“No—nothing. Just a bad dream. Go back to sleep, love.”

He could sense as she hesitated when he got out of bed and paced, but he knew that she was so much more tired with this pregnancy than she had ever been with Finn. Athelstan tried to calm his breathing and his heart but neither wanted to listen to him. He went to the window and cracked it open just a sliver. The air was chilled as winter approached and it felt wonderful on his fevered skin. After a few moments, Athelstan felt comfortable enough to shut the window and sit in the chair next to the fireplace.

No sleep would come to him the rest of the night.

 

As the snow began to fall on the town, Athelstan found the family unable to enjoy the outdoors as they liked to, and instead stuck to do their own bidding within the castle walls. As Helena and Finn took a nap in their chambers, Athelstan went to the library to find some sort of entertainment in which to pass the hours. Deeply involved in his reading, he didn’t hear as Edward approached.

“Athelstan?”

He jumped at the noise but relaxed when he saw his uncle. “Edward. How can I help you?”

“I was wondering if you would care to take a walk with me?” It didn’t sound so much as a question so much as a suggestion.

“In this weather?”

The older man laughed. “I’m not that brave. No, just around the castle.”

Athelstan memorized the page in which he left off and stood, carrying the book with him as he followed Edward out. For the most part the men were silent; Edward not knowing how to start, and Athelstan not knowing what exactly the other wanted with him.

“Athelstan, I’m sure that you are aware of the predicament in which I am right now.” The younger gave a look as to say he did not. “With the succession of the throne?”

“Ah, yes. Have you decided who you will name?”

“In fact, I actually have. And I was wondering your opinion on the matter.”

“Oh?” He was taken aback; why would it matter what he thought in all of this? Was it going to put him and his family out of a place to stay within the near future?

“As you know, John has passed and I have no more nephews within close range. It would mean naming a cousin from down the line, one that I have never met or would know how mature they may be for the task of taking up the title.”

“I do.”

Edward nodded. “Helena is my niece and I love her so. But John has sisters as well, though none of them are married.” He paused, and Athelstan watched as he fiddled with his hands. “Helena has always had a special place in my heart, but unfortunately due to certain laws she is unable to take on the title herself.”

“What are you saying, Edward? Are you asking to name Finn as your successor?”

Another pause followed with a huff of a laugh. “Actually, I hadn’t thought of that.”

“Then what are you trying to say?”

Edward stopped walking, and so therefore so did Athelstan. “I was hoping that you would accept it, dear boy.”

Athelstan felt as if some invisible being was choking him and he felt lightheaded from the lack of oxygen. “I’m sorry?”

“I know that it is a lot to take on, and that you’ve never been trained for such a task but I am asking as a man who not only needs a successor but also views you as a son rather than a nephew. I have watched you and Helena these past few months and I believe that in time, with training and practice, that when I do pass that you will do England a great service by accepting.”

Athelstan went to the nearest wall and leaned against it for support. “I don’t know what to say.”

“I only ask that you ponder it over and then when you feel confident with your answer that you let me know.” Edward considered him for a moment before silently walking away.

In a rush, the memory of his dream in which Helena placed a crown upon his head and the words in which she spoke, _“Accept this, and know that I am by your side always,”_ came back to him. Was this his destiny? Had God been warning him of the imminent offer in which he had a hand in? What if he didn’t accept, would Edward then remember the option of Finn instead? How long before Edward passed; would Finn be ready, or would he just be a boy with too much responsibility?

“Wait!” Athelstan cried out. Edward stopped and turned around. “I accept. I accept your offer, and promise to take on the crown in your absence.”

Edward’s face split in two and he took great strides towards the young man, enveloping him into his great arms. “I knew you would. God told me so.”

Athelstan let out the air that he held in his lungs, relaxing with the words Edward spoke. “I believe He told me, too.”

“It is settled, then! I will draw up the papers shortly, and we will make the announcement in the warmer months.” He grabbed Athelstan’s face within his hands. “You will do great things, Athelstan. I trust you, I believe in you, and now I just need you to do the same for yourself.”

Allowing a tiny smile through his slight apprehension, Athelstan nodded and trotted off to tell Helena the news.


	31. Ghosts That We Knew

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well I’m pretty sure I’m just as surprised as the rest of you as to how long this took me to update! When I saw “March” I about lost my eyeballs lol I really don’t have much of an excuse except that I didn’t have much inspiration with this past season of Vikings, and then have had health problems that just like to be irritating. 
> 
> I cannot even begin to put into words my surprise (and glee!) over the rush of favorites/follows since the 2nd season premiered, and more importantly the stream of emails over the past couple of months inquiring as to whether or not I was continuing this. I adore writing this story and even more hearing from you all. I just honestly would sit down and was not able to put a good sentence together! Hopefully this chapter brings you back and interested…please keep up with the emails and reviews as I think I now am plowing ahead once more and your interaction helps me along :) This story would not be happening without the readers and so THANK YOU for sticking with me. On with the show…

_So give me hope in the darkness that I will see the light '_

_Cause oh that gave me such a fright_

_But I will hold as long as you like_

_Just promise me we'll be alright_

_-Mumford and Sons_

 

** Ten Years Later **

 

As the sun’s warm rays beat on Athelstan’s back, he observed his children run and play around on the lush greens of the grounds. He chuckled at their antics, each their own unique person, pondering how it could be that they were growing so quickly before his eyes?

Finn, as usual, had taken to climbing his favorite tree, a thick beast full of twists and turns, only to sit and read quietly by himself. Athelstan could have barely made him out through the heavy leaves if it wasn’t for his bare dangling feet, quite long and lean for a twelve year old. A mere month ago he had appeared such as any boy his age, only to walk out of his room one day having had grown as quickly as the weeds over night! And just the other day Helena had joked that soon enough he would be looking his father in the eyes; Athelstan could barely swallow the truth of it. Then there was the fact that Athelstan noticed that some of the young girls in the village paid much more attention to his eldest as they traveled about the market, giggling and blushing as he accidently caught their curious stares. Finn didn’t appear to understand the sudden attention, or what to do with it, and now he seemed cautious to join his father in the market for fear of…what, making a fool of himself? Athelstan didn’t really know his son’s reasoning as he didn’t push the issue, and since he had been living in the monastery at that point in his life, he could not recall such problems or how a young boy would naturally react to girls. Athelstan hoped that Finn would come around sooner rather than later, and that he himself would become more comfortable with his son inching closer and closer to adulthood.

Then there were the rambunctious ten-year-old twins, Edmund and Eadred, who had made it their mission from their first breaths to keep Athelstan and Helena on their toes. They had been a wonderful surprise; after Helena had delivered Edmund and the couple rejoiced at the news of a second son, the midwife delivered the news that the strong pains Helena was feeling once again was not in fact the placenta delivering, but actually another baby. Athelstan supposed after the birth of the twins that he had known subconsciously that Helena was having more than one child but tried to keep the thought at bay just in case it were to be that she was just merely heavier the second time around. Where Finn was curious with a side of adventure, the twins were constantly looking for scrapes to get into. Edmund was the quieter of the two, more of a follower than a leader, for which Eadred made it his undertaking to step into the leadership role. Athelstan didn’t always know if it was the best of ideas; at least Edmund attempted to have a bit of common sense where Eadred relied on instinct (for which most cases had him in trouble daily with his parents).

It was any wonder that they managed to go on to have another child, but welcome her they did. Finally, a beautiful baby girl that they could call their own. Athelstan loved his children with every speck of his being, but if he were to be honest Sibley held a special place in his heart. There was nothing quite like a daughter, and she knew he had been wrapped around her finger since the moment he had first held her those seven years ago. She was kind but also likely to voice her opinion, enjoyed following Finn around and doing anything to be in his favor as he was her idol. One day she would cry that she would have rather been born a boy so that she could run around like the twins, and then the next she was mimicking her mother and begging to learn how to sew clothes for her doll. Maybe, Athelstan thought, she was his favorite because she looked like the exact replica of her mother with the exception of his blue eyes; or was it that she was a fiery spirit who also could take on a quiet strength?

Maybe it was because, in all honesty, he was reminded of Gyda when he watched her.

Athelstan took his eyes off of Sibley as she played in their vast garden, focusing on the emerald blades beneath his feet. The idea of Scandinavia and the people he left behind still left an empty ache in his heart, a piercing in his chest. Why the Lord would not have him let go of all good feelings towards them after all these years was still a wonder to him. But he supposed that it was his punishment for becoming so close to losing his faith and turning away from God during those years living in a pagan world, living a pagan life.

“You look too deep in thought.”

Athelstan turned towards the voice of his beloved wife and granted her a warm smile. “I believe you’re right.”

She kissed his bearded cheek and wrapped her arms around his waist. “And what were you thinking of?”

His eyes searched hers; he did not like to speak of the North with her as she usually became upset afterwards. Those green eyes of their younger years gazed back at him, the finest of lines hugging them as well as her brow and the pout of her mouth. “Just of how old we’re becoming.”

Helena quirked an eyebrow. “ _We’re_ becoming? Oh husband, I believe it is merely _you_ who is becoming old!” she teased with a playful shove to his chest.

He tickled her side before placing a chaste kiss on her full mouth. “I suppose that you’re right.”

“Papa!” Sibley yelled, running up to her parents with her hands behind her back, her skirts threatening to make her fall before she got to them. “I have a present for you.”

“Is that so?”

“Yes, but you must kneel in order to have it.”

Athelstan hid his smile in order to not offend his princess and did as she said, bowing his head for the full effect.

“A king must have a crown at all times,” she explained, pulling out a wreath of flowers she had made and placing it gently on his head. The pinks, purples, and deep blues caused quite a lovely contrast with his dark curls.

He heard as Helena giggled behind them but chose to ignore her and instead kiss Sibley’s hand. “Thank you, your majesty. But a princess should have a crown as well; where is yours?”

“I had to make yours first but I’m going to make one for me now.” She trotted off back to her home amongst the gnomes and fairies, humming her own song as she weaved more flowers together.

“How do I look?” he asked Helena, pretending to adjust the crown.

“Very regal.” They shared a laugh before Helena’s eye caught the twins attempting to attack Finn with their wooden play swords. “Boys! Leave your brother alone _now_!”

They scoffed at their mother’s interruption and ran off to another portion of the grounds, taking on an imaginary dragon that was coming to destroy the castle. Just as Athelstan offered to walk with Helena, he spotted one of his guardsmen riding up on horseback, appearing as if he had seen a ghost. Smoke billowed in the background in the direction of the village. How had he not seen that before?

“Your majesty,” he greeted, out of breath and not offering to get off of his horse.

“William, what is it?” Athelstan and Helena shared a look of the most concern for their people.

“Earlier we spotted a group of men entering the village but thought nothing of it. That is, until they began to set fire to the marketplace and threatened the lives of the people. We tried to keep it under control but we have lost many men to the beasts. One of them called out your name and demanded to see you; claims he knows you from many years ago and heard that you are now King.”

Athelstan swallowed the thickness that grew immediately in his throat, already knowing the answer to the question before he asked it. “And his name?” His voice barely registered above a whisper.

“Ragnar Lothbrok, sire.”

Helena’s nails dug into his forearm; it would have been painful if he wasn’t already fighting the urge to vomit. The air was too thick, too warm, too conforming. His vision began to cloud. “I will be there shortly to assess the damage and talk to this man.”

“I’ll escort you, sire.”

Reluctantly he agreed, as he would have preferred a moment to gather his wits without distressing one of his men. Athelstan turned to retrieve his horse from the stables, only one thought crossing his mind: his past had come back to haunt him.

 

The smoke grew thicker as they drew closer to the destruction and the scent filled his nostrils well before he even saw the dimming embers. His people were gathered around, weary of the large men and women that had caused such devastation, and yet still their eyes held hope as they caught sight of him, their only savior in all of this. Athelstan leaped off of his horse and slowly walked around, ignoring the strangers and taking in all that they had demolished, including those left for dead.

“So we finally meet again, priest.”

His gaze slowly met Ragnar Lothbrok’s as he emerged from his group of followers and, as much as he wanted to appear the ever strong and wise king that his people believed him to be, he was thrown back to his early days in Scandinavia, beckoning to Ragnar’s every call.

“I see that you are also a king now,” Ragnar continued, starting to circle his old confidant. “But you do not look very kingly right now.”

Ragnar’s smirk scratched at Athelstan’s skin and put him on edge. He was transported back to a time when they thought of each other as equals, where Ragnar’s betrayal and siding with his brother hurt Athelstan far worse than any enemy’s sword ever could.

“What are you doing here, Ragnar?”

“Ah, he speaks!” Ragnar mocked, clapping as if Athelstan was some sort of entertainment, a jester of the court rather than its ruler.

Athelstan could feel the eyes of his people on him, accusing, confused; they knew nothing of his past and so he could not blame them. He knew he would feel deceived if he was in their position. They were turning on him, even more quickly than the North men had turned their world upside down moments before. He had to gain them, as well as his confidence, back.

“Ragnar Lothbrok, you come here and attack my village and my people. What do you have to say for yourself and for your own?”

Ragnar appeared impressed with the King version of Athelstan, strong and bold. Good, maybe then they could get somewhere and this nightmare would be over.

“I say that you owe me and mine for the death of my brother, my best warrior. Now that you are a mighty king, I have come to claim what is mine.”

Athelstan was muddled and felt as his heart beat wildly against his chest, the pounding in his ears so loud he would swear others could hear it. Glancing around, his eyes settled on a few of the men he once called friend; Arne, Erik, and then he spotted Bjorn. The young man gave just a short nod and a movement of the mouth that could possibly be justified as a half of a smile. He had aged around the mouth and eyes, the years of sea bearing starting to show.

“I do not know what you speak of. But if you are seeking a word in peace with me then I invite you and your people to join me in my home and leave my people to clean up the mess you have made.”

Ragnar’s smirk disappeared. “So be it.” He nodded his men forward, following the King and his guards up the hill to the castle.

 

“I want the room and all doors heavily guarded,” Athelstan quietly instructed William before heading into the dining hall.

“Your majesty?” the cook questioned as he was given the orders to set for a feast.

“I know that it is last minute, Sebastian, but in all honesty I know we have this all on hand and I’m hoping to feed them, give them what they want, and get them out as quickly as possible. You do understand, don’t you?”

The cook saw the desperation in his King’s eyes and nodded his head eagerly. “Yes, your majesty.”

“So how did you come about this, priest? Kill a man for his throne?” Ragnar questioned as the men and women bombarded the room being used for discussion on both parties’ parts. “It wouldn’t be beneath you, would it?”

The muscles in Athelstan’s jaw ached from all of the tension he was keeping there. “Have a seat.”

Just as the Norse people were settling down at the long oak table, a burst of noise came from back behind Athelstan’s chair. He whipped his head in the direction it came from, scared for another surprise attack, positively sure that Ragnar had come to claim his life rather than a large sum of money or land. Instead, he found the worried faces of his sons.

“Papa! What happened?!” they all yelled at once, though Finn sounded more concerned as opposed to the twins who sounded excited at the prospect of danger.

“We’re fine, boys. Now go find your mother and stay there!” he reprimanded, the harsh tone that he emitted slightly scaring even the twins.

“Papa, papa!” came the airy voice of his youngest, running past her brothers and flinging her small body into Athelstan’s arms. “Did you save us from the bad men?”

Athelstan could see out of the corner of his eye the glee that spread over Ragnar’s face as he took in the knowledge that Athelstan now had more children than just Finn.

“Love, I need you and your brothers to go find your mother—“

“I’m here,” Helena interrupted, her own anger towards the situation at hand evident in her voice.

“Ah, Helena,” Ragnar greeted, standing in her presence, “I see you and your husband have done well for yourself since we last saw one another.”

“You know them?” Edmund asked, he and Eadred watching Helena closely for her answer.

“It was a long time ago. Ragnar and his men and women are from the North. He took your father as a slave and a short time later his brother stole me away from England as well to hold a place as a slave.”

“And then your father killed my brother and we sent him back here.”

“Your brother tried to kill my mother,” spoke Finn.

“How would you know?” questioned Eadred.

“Because I was born there. I remember bits and pieces. Especially the boat ride on the way to England.”

“Is that you, Finn? Come here so I can see you better,” Ragnar ordered with the fascination of a child.

Finn gave the shortest of hesitation as he spotted the concern on his parents’ faces but proceeded forward. Athelstan placed his body between Finn and Ragnar, a shield between sure danger.

“Calm down, Athelstan. I wouldn’t harm the boy; my displeasure is with you, not him.”

“That hasn’t stopped you before.”

Ragnar perked his eyebrow high on his brow, stood, and came closer to the young boy. Finn instinctively stood to his fullest height and squared his growing shoulders. Ragnar circled around he and Athelstan, ignoring the older man and smirking at the advancement of the toddler he once knew. Athelstan could smell the soot and sweat that clung to the warrior’s clothes and skin.

“How old are you now, Finn?”

“Twelve, sir,” he answered, his voice unwavering.

“Hah! Nearly a man.” Ragnar grabbed his chin and pulled his face up so that he could see him better. “You look exactly as I imagine your father to have looked at your age. Have you been trained at all for battle, or has your father thought that a bad idea and taught you to just stay indoors and read your Bible?”

Finn wiggled his face out of Ragnar’s grasp. “No, I train daily. Just in case.”

“Oh? In case of what?”

Finn quickly glanced at Athelstan before turning his attention on Ragnar once more. “Well it’s no secret that you and your people have decided to raid England again. I need to be prepared to help defend my people if it were to come to that.”

“And where were you when we set fire to the village?”

Finn did not know how to answer such a question, which Athelstan knew was Ragnar’s intention. The group of Norse chuckled at the boy’s discomfort.

“Leave my brother alone!” yelled Sibley, running forward and kicking Ragnar in the shin as he joined in the laughter. His stone cold blue eyes snapped at her, and while any other child her age would run away, Sibley stood her ground and scowled back at him.

“Sibley!” Helena chastised, coming forward and wrapping protective arms around her.

Ragnar bent down to face the girl properly. “Have your parents not taught you better manners? You should respect your elders.” He paused for dramatic effect. “I could break you in half, child, if I saw fit.”

“I don’t respect men who don’t respect my papa.”

Ragnar’s face was stoic for a moment before breaking into a well-meaning smile. “You remind me of my Gyda. She is very spirited as well.”

“How is Gyda?” Athelstan found himself asking, instinct to know how the young woman was doing since he had last seen her.

Ragnar’s smile was instantly wiped away. He considered Athelstan before moving back to his seat at the table where food was now being set down. His dirty hands grabbed at whatever sat in front of him, stuffing his mouth past its breaking point.

“Lagertha and Gyda left about a year after you and Helena,” spoke Bjorn. Athelstan noticed a silver streak that ran down the side of face as his mouth moved in the light of the room, an old scar from a battle after Athelstan’s time. “They are in Ireland. We have not heard from them in years.”

“I see,” he replied, not knowing what else to say, and from the expression Ragnar was giving him he knew not to push the issue for more information.

“Can we move this along?” came a voice from further down the table. “I’m sick of the stench of _Christian_ around here.”

“Floki,” Athelstan regarded him, moving back to his chair and withholding any snide comments he had for the man. He nodded to Helena for her to take the children and leave. This could get messy.

 

**To Be Continued…**

 

 

  



	32. Glory and Gore

_We gladiate but I guess we're really fighting ourselves_

_Roughing up our minds so we're ready when the kill time comes_

_Wide awake in bed, words in my brain,_

_"Secretly you love this do you even wanna go free?"_

_-Lorde_

 

Athelstan sighed, hung his head, and cradled it in his right hand. The noise that surrounded him was enough to deafen, and his ears rang nearly every night as he lay awake in bed, the stress of the situation too much to even allow a decent night’s sleep. The men and women of the North sat at the long table, screaming not only at Athelstan and his advisors but also at one another. It seemed that they had very different ideas of what they wanted than what Ragnar bargained in front of them. It would have been comical to watch as his own people stare in awe and shock as the group of raiders had their shouting matches in their native tongue, but Athelstan could understand what both sides were saying and knew that their indecisiveness would just halt their exodus and rather keep them in England even longer.

As he glanced up to face them once again, Athelstan caught Ragnar staring at him. As the men locked eyes, Ragnar gave him one of his irritating smirks, as if to say he had planned this all along, and wasn’t it just so funny that he was still the one in control? Athelstan glared at him, stood, and walked out of the room, leaving his men scared and the Norse confused.

Normally Athelstan praised weather that was sunny and clear but as he stepped out of the castle and into nature he reveled in the clouds and cool breeze. It was refreshing, and he inhaled deeply to clear his lungs of the weeks’ worth of stuffy indoor air. What was supposed to be a quick exchange of money for a (well deserved) death in Athelstan’s mind turned into almost two weeks of negotiations. Would they ever leave? He supposed he should be happy with the fact that, although he would constantly stare at Athelstan as if he was ready to kill him at any moment’s notice, Ragnar did not enact any violence nor did he condone it if some of the men would try to start up. Still, their presence made him uneasy and he was sure he would never sleep soundly again, even if they did leave at some point.

“Have you sent them away yet?”

Athelstan turned to find Sibley once again playing in the garden. Her small hands were covered in dirt and she even had some streaks across her porcelain face. He awarded her a smile and sat down beside her, running his fingers lightly over the flowers that bloomed brightly.

“No, dear one. Unfortunately we have not come to an agreement yet.”

Her brow furrowed in a way that he found endearing before he gently ran a finger through it to release the creases. “What is it that they want, Papa?”

He sighed for a second time that day. “Sibley,” he paused, trying to find the right way to tell her some things about his past, “your mother and I did not always live here.”

“You mean in the castle, right?”

He shook his head. “Not quite. You see, I was from the northern part of England and your mother was from here. It’s through her family that we became what we are today. Anyway, many years ago I was a monk—“

“A monk?!”

Athelstan couldn’t help but laugh. “Yes, love, a monk. My family could not afford to keep me as I had too many siblings and my father too little money. So they sent me to a monastery. I was quite content with my life, that is until Ragnar and his men found England, found Lindisfarne, and took me to their country in the North to work as a slave. That’s how I know these men and women.”

Sibley nodded her head, taking in what her father had to say, and asked with her eyes that he continue on.

“After some time there, your mother was captured as a slave by Ragnar’s brother, Rollo.”

“That’s the man he keeps talking about, isn’t it?”

“That’s right, Sibley. To save time, your mother escaped and came to live under the protection of Ragnar and his then wife, Lagertha. We fell in love, got married, and then your brother, Finn, came along. During that time, Ragnar let me go as a free man. But Sibley, I had to raid to keep a roof over your mother and brother’s heads and food on the table during the harsh winters. I’m not proud of that time in my life.”

“You didn’t have a choice, Papa.”

Athelstan smiled and cupped her chin. “You’re too smart and sweet for me. I’ve asked forgiveness for many things, Sibley, and that is one of them. The other…is that I killed Rollo.”

The little girl let out a slight gasp, having had heard the man Ragnar accuse her father as such but it was so much more real as he himself confessed his sin to her. “But Papa, why?”

Athelstan’s face turned serious and he rubbed his forehead. “He tried to…hurt…your mother. I couldn’t have that happen and so I tried to fend him off. But Sibley, Rollo was a violent man and killing him was the only way to stop him. I wish it weren’t so but that is the truth of it.”

“And then they brought you and Mother home?”

He nodded. “That was when we found your uncle and ended up being named next in line for the throne.”

Sibley was quiet for some time, Athelstan letting her take in the information and process it as best as she could for her young age. “So you loved Mother so much that you left behind the Church?”

Athelstan’s grin spread from one ear to the next. “Yes, she was all I could imagine for my future. You and your brothers are a testament to that, and we love you all so dearly.”

She shared his happiness. “But you also loved Ragnar, didn’t you?”

“Yes,” he said after a moment, wanting to answer her honestly. “And Lagertha, and Bjorn and his brothers and sister. They were my family. In a way, Ragnar saved me. If it weren’t for him I would have never met your mother and you wouldn’t be here. He let me see the world from a different perspective. He taught me to love differently than I had ever known. He gave me the second chance that I didn’t know I needed. But he also turned against me, let me down, threw me away.”

Sibley plucked at the grass around her ankles. “Doesn’t the Lord say that we should forgive those who trespass against us? If He can forgive those who put Him on the cross, can’t you forgive the man who doesn’t understand any better?”

He swallowed her words with a struggle he didn’t know existed until the words were said. “How do you know the right way to say things at this age?”

She shrugged, going about her business of creating an elegant bouquet for Helena, a task she went about weekly. “Even if Ragnar cannot forgive you, the Lord cares about your soul, Papa, and you need to do the right thing. Give Ragnar what he wants and be at peace.”

He stood, brought her to him and held her fast, kissing the crown of her golden brown hair. “Don’t take too long out here, dear one. I believe a storm is coming soon.”

He headed back inside, determined to get these negotiations finished and his life back on track. The room in which he left, though, was empty upon his return. Concerned, Athelstan turned to begin his search for any possible Vikings or court advisors only to find Bjorn, young and strong, standing in the doorway.

“They took your lead and are taking a break in their rooms and on the grounds.”

Panic rose up from deep within Athelstan. “Sibley,” he whispered to himself.

Bjorn held up his hand. “Don’t worry, she won’t be harmed. Besides, I just passed her in the halls. It appears that she was going to find Helena and had flowers in her hands.”

Athelstan visibly showed his relief, only to look at Bjorn sheepishly as he realized his lack of trust with the North was evident. “I only worry—“

“I understand, Athelstan.” There was a pregnant pause before he continued. “Would you mind joining me for a walk? I’d like to stretch my legs while we can, and I would also like a moment alone with you.”

“Of course,” Athelstan answered, seeing in Bjorn’s kind eyes that he only meant well.

The two men took their time, Athelstan explaining some of the history of the castle and artifacts in it (somehow still managing to find themselves in their rightful place). He told Bjorn of all the farming and produce that had benefitted the land since he and Helena’s arrival, blessed information that had been given to them during their stay in Scandinavia.

“And you? How is Dalla?”

Bjorn grinned. “She is well. We have two sons now. Refil, he is nine years old, and Erik, who will soon be six.”

Athelstan clapped him on the back. “Congratulations. I am truly happy for you.”

Bjorn agreed, opening his expansive arms and slightly spinning. “And I, you! Look at all of this. Who would have thought the priest would be so well off after spending time as a slave? But you deserve it. Especially after all that you have been through thanks to my father.”

Athelstan cleared his throat, a nervous tick he had only begun to notice after becoming king. “Yes, well…”

Bjorn rested his well-worn hands on Athelstan’s shoulders. “I am sorry for all that he has done and continues to do. I have tried to talk reason into him over the years, but then you have men like Floki that recognize the angrier the man, the more inspired he is. And so they encourage the behavior, and constantly bring it up to keep Father angry. Even Lagertha attempted to reason with him, at least get him to accept the Rollo was in the wrong, but when he wouldn’t break she and Gyda left.”

“Which makes a man even angrier. What of your younger brothers, then?”

“Ivar is now thirteen and so he will most likely join us next summer, though he is not very strong which is concerning. Sigurd is constantly bugging to learn more about fighting and raiding, whereas Halfdan likes the farming side of everything more than the raiding. They are all at home with Ragnar’s wife, Aslaug, and their son, Ubba.”

“So Lagertha just left them with Ragnar?” It more than surprised him; he could recall the way Lagertha would look on her sons with the utmost love and affection. Thinking of his own children, Athelstan didn’t know if he could do that if given the choice.

“She didn’t want to, and I could see her debating all the way until the boat was out of sight, but she knows how precious sons are to us. Besides, she wouldn’t have left them if she didn’t think Ragnar wasn’t capable.”

“Still…”

“Our worlds are very different, if you can recall.”

“Yes, I’ve been reminded daily,” he smirked.

“I can’t help but think, though, that you and my father would be able to find a common ground once more if you two were just left to discuss everything by yourselves. None of your advisors, none of the men on our side spewing hate in his ear after everything you say.”

Athelstan did not know how to reply and so he let the idea hang in the air between them.

“I heard you speaking to your daughter in the garden earlier. I knew you loved my father once, and he you. Why not try to find that place again? Why not try to make an alliance instead of an enemy? Your negotiation skills have made you famous, and we have heard the rumors on our travels. If you can convince other men to unite all of England instead of a multitude of rulers in one country, how can you not want to try to make peace with Ragnar?”

“It’s not that I don’t want that, Bjorn. But I believe your father is the one that seems so determined to hate me for all of time.”

Bjorn stared at him for a moment, and then shrugged before turning to walk back inside. “What is it Sibley said to you? Be the better man? Come on, priest, be a child of your God won’t you?”

Athelstan gave an exasperated expression as he watched the young man travel back into his home. Maybe this was a sign, hearing it now twice in such a short span of time. If only it were as easy as those two people made it sound! Frustration took over every inch of his body, his hands snaking into his long curls and pulling at the roots with rage.

“Now, now. I happen to love your hair where it’s at so please stop trying to pull it out.”

Letting his hands fall to his sides, Athelstan kept his focus on Helena as she came towards him, quiet as a hushed wind through the trees. She was and always had been a pillar of strength in his life, and so his instincts took over; he grabbed her face and kissed her hard on the lips, attempting to share some of the burden with her so that his shoulders wouldn’t feel so heavy.

She gently pushed at his chest, breaking for air. “Talk to me, Athelstan. What can I do?”

“Do you love me?”

Helena gave a puzzled look. “Of course. You know I do.”

“Do you trust me?”

“Always.”

He gave a short nod and pulled her in close, burying his nose into the crook of her neck, staying there for some time to take in the comfort of her embrace. “I love you and our children more than anything in this world. I’m doing this for us.”

“I know.”

He pulled away slightly, giving a chaste kiss before leaving her and heading back inside to face his fears head on.

 

“Ragnar Lothbrok.”

The bulky form turned to face the voice calling his name. “Yes, priest? Come to finally admit defeat and guilt, and give me what I came for?”

“Ragnar, you and I will meet and discuss plans for both of our futures in a room of my choosing, without any of our advisors, and we will finally end this.”

“You’re joking, right?!” exploded Floki, heading straight for Athelstan.

Ragnar raised his hand. “Alone?”

“Alone.”

Ragnar crossed his arms again, considering what Athelstan was offering. He nodded, causing an eruption of protests from both sides.

“ENOUGH!” Athelstan yelled. The astonishment of the man’s voice caused an immediate hush over the crowd. “Follow me, then.”

Ragnar gestured for the other man to lead, and followed for the first time in many years.

 

 

 


End file.
